


we'd be a big conversation

by kosmokuns



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drag Queens, Fluff, Gangs, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, M/M, Making Out, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sharing a Bed, Strangulation, The Author Regrets Nothing, albie works at the docks, davey is a drag queen and an english teacher, its a comment here n there, its the mafia and the mob it's not that deep, oooo yeah, race is a physics boy, this is even more fun than it sounds, this isnt slow burn bc i am weak, um. yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosmokuns/pseuds/kosmokuns
Summary: Albert is new to the balls. Race has been coming since he was a teenager. They collide beautifully, they match completely, but Albert's friends aren't always honest, and Race's family isn't always lawful either.1920s queer balls au with drag queens and petting rooms and jokes. i have finished this completely i just have to put the chapters up.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly
Comments: 65
Kudos: 49





	1. chapter 1: introduction

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to 1920s nyc. strap in for the ride of your fucking life, because this has been the ride of mine.

Sneaking into Hamilton Lodge with Jack had become a habit he relied on far too much for comfort. He’d been seventeen when Jack had asked if he’d wanted to come, Jack being a regular at the place to see his boyfriend David, and Race had been powerless to the temptation of the freedom of it. Three years later, the exhilaration of it hadn’t worn off and now he had the added extra of the bartenders knowing his name and the performers pressing kisses to his cheeks when they saw him in the crowd. Today, he was perched on a stall at the bar, chatting flirtatiously with the bartenders as they skilfully mixed cocktails for the queer and straight patrons who stumbled up to them,

“Anyone you’ve got your eye on, Race? I’m sick of hearing about Romeo’s recent trysts with that white man,” Mush said, handing a beer to a woman dressed in a black suit that cut into her waist, showing her curves just right. She winked at Mush and he smiled at her, stuffing her money into the register. Romeo made a noise of protest and Race laughed.

“No one for me, I’m afraid,” He replied,

“You’re such a prude, Race,” Romeo rolled his eyes, adding far too much gin into a cocktail for a particularly gorgeous man.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Romeo, but he’s right Racer, I haven’t seen you with anyone in months,” Mush said, bending down to put more ice into his bucket. Race sighed, putting his head in his hands.

“Why is it so important to you that I go home with someone?” He asked, groaning.

“Because you’re so blisteringly lonely that it makes me want to shoot my brains out,” Romeo deadpanned, completely serious. Mush slapped him on the cheek, and he squeaked,

“Ow, that hurt, you dick,” He scowled,

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure Andrew or whatever his name is has done worse,” Mush stuck his tongue out at him, and Romeo turned crimson, huffing and turning back to his customers, grumbling about Mush.

“Honestly though Race, there’s no one?”

Race shook his head, “I don’t know, I just haven’t felt that kind of connection in a while, sure there are attractive guys, but I don’t wanna do anything with them.”

Mush shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself,” He said, and slid another shot towards Race, who raised his eyebrow at him and chucked it back, leaping off the stool to find Jack. Winding through the crowd, he avoided the gyrating bodies of hundreds of people on the dance floor indulging in the liberty that made this place so popular. He reached a black door on the side of the stage that had ‘no entry’ pasted on it, ignoring that sign, he pushed it open and stepped into a gloomy corridor, the slam of the door as it swung shut echoing around him. He trotted down the corridor into a room where performers were applying powder and rouge to their faces, attaching wigs and squeezing into sequinned dresses. Smoke created a lustful haze and oil lamps provided a soft glow, soaking the performers in warm light,

“Hey look it’s Racer!” One of them shouted, tottering over to him in heels and bending down to hug him,

“Evenin’ Davey,” Race replied, “You look gorgeous as always,”

“Oh, stop it, you,” Davey said, as the others in the room rushed over to embrace him. Race eagerly hugged them back, complimenting their outfits and make up,

“Hannah that suit looks hot,” Race said approvingly, running his hands to the waist of the ginger girl in front of him. She laughed,

“Get offa me, you lug,” She pushed him off and sat back down in front of a mirror, adjusting the wisps of ginger falling out from under her cap. Smiling, he turned back to Davey,

“Do you know where Jack is?”

Davey rolled his eyes, “I have no clue where he is or what he’s up to,” He said shortly. Race regretted asking. Clearly, they were having one of their bad days. Race couldn’t remember a time without Davey and Jack being together, but he also couldn’t remember a time when they didn’t fight like bulls. Both were strong headed and willed, each with fiery tempers quick to jump down each other’s throats with blazing opinions to match. He waved goodbye to them all and clambered up the rickety staircase to the upstairs where more secretive visitors could be disguised in darkness. They sat around circular tables playing cards with hats pulled low and cigarettes dangling from their mouths, occasionally clapping when they saw a performer they liked. It was a space for the rich men, men that guys would boast about sleeping with and younger people would peer up at to see if anyone famous was there. Race had personally spotted Robert Winthrop Chanler, and yes, it was his proudest achievement.

“Look, it’s Race!” Jack squealed excitedly, jumping up from his seat at a table where cards were being laid out. He squeezed Race tightly and he squeezed back, allowing himself to be shoved into a chair,

“Deal me in, gents,” He said, and they all groaned,

“We’re gonna lose now,” Finch moaned, his body flopping onto Henry’s as if he inconsolable,

“I needed that money for my rent,” Henry huffed, dealing Race in, who threw him a cheeky smile and picked up his cards.

“Cheer up, Henry, you can just move in with Finch,” Elmer piped up and Henry glared daggers at him to which the others responded with various scandalised noises,

“Alright enough,” Said Race, “Let’s play.”

They got halfway through the game before they decided to give it up and Race shared out his winnings between them, tonight he didn’t need the money and he could always bet on the horses if need be. Just as he was pocketing his own share of coins, a mop of russet hair caught his attention on the dance floor below. The person seemed lost, apologetically weaving through the crowd to get to the bar, hailing for Mush as soon as he got there and downing a shot of a spirit Race knew was cheap and burning. He leaned back on the bar to survey the scene nervously, taking in the mixture of people in front of him.

“Who’s that?” Race said, pointing him out to the rest of the boys, “I’ve never seen him before,” Jack leant over the railing, squinting to try to locate him and then trying to recognise his face,

“I don’t think I know,” He said, puzzled, “Must be a new one,”

Elmer jumped up, “A new one? Let me see,” He said excitedly, joining Jack and Race on the railing. He struggled to find him until Race pointed him out, “Oh, he’s tight.”

“Bitch, you can’t even see his face from here,” Finch said, shoving his shoulder as he came to stand next to him. The boy shakily moved into the crowd and was promptly grabbed on the hip by a man who whispered something in his ear, biting his lip alluringly. The redhead jerked back, shaking his head and melting to the wall where he dropped his head back, looking frustrated,

“We should go rescue him,” Race said,

“I think he’s fine,” Henry replied from the other side of Jack. It was at that moment one of the men dressed head to toe in drag came up to him and tried to pull him in to dance, and he flinched, curling in on himself as the queen shrugged and walked off,

“I think you’re wrong,” Finch said, and Jack hummed,

“Let’s go get him,”

Henry groaned but followed them down the main stairs to the floor. The music was louder here, and they had to shout to be able to hear each other so they skirted around the edge where it was marginally quieter to reach the boy. Jack went up first, easy manner and pleasant demeanour usually attracting even the most skittish of guys as the others waited at a table.

“Hey, man,” He said, coming up the side of the boy. He looked at him owlishly, as if he was trying to work out if Jack was a threat, “I seen you come in earlier, this your first time?” The boy nodded suspiciously, and Jack held out his hand, “Jack Kelly, I’m the son of the owner.”

“Albert DaSilva,” He replied and shook Jack’s hand, “This is my first time, was it that obvious?” A hint of humour ran through his voice, laced into his Irish accent and curling over his syllables. Jack laughed,

“Honey, it’s always obvious when it’s someone’s first time. My friends and I wanted to help you out, how’s about you come for a drink with us?” Jack gestured at the other boys who waved dutifully, smiles on their faces. Albert scanned each of them,

“Sure,” He said, and Jack clapped him on the shoulder, leading him over to the other boys. The boys parted their circle to let them both in,

“Boys, this is Albert, Albert meet boys,” Jack said. Albert went around and shook each of their hands, getting their names as he did. The difference in appearance between each was astounding to him. Finch boasted tawny beige skin and rich toffee eyes, dainty hands and a dry voice, but Henry had rosy taupe skin and was short, but had thick arms and legs and high cheekbones that reflected the glittering low light of the room. Elmer and Jack were clearly of Hispanic origin, but where Elmer was slight and nimble, Jack was broad and lumbering. Race, though, Race was in a league of his own. He was barely shorter than Albert and had blonde curls piled on his head, stylishly falling into his eyes which were the colour of a stormy sea, blues clashing and blending together. An even tan clung to his face, his skin freckled and soft, hinting at spending time away from New York, somewhere with heat and sun and outdoors.

“First drink on me, Albert,” Race said, cocking his head to the side mischievously. Albert held up his hands,

“If that’s how it works,” Race laughed, pulling Albert in around his shoulder and taking him to the bar,

“Yeah that’s how it works, new kid,” He sat Albert down and leant over, hollering for Mush or Romeo.

“Hey, boys! Two drinks for me and the fella, make it sweet,” He said, and both materialised at the same time, curiosity getting the better of them,

“And who’s this?” Mush said, pulling juices and spirits out of the fridges while Romeo eavesdropped as he served Jack,

“I’m Albert,” Albert said hurriedly,

“And he’s one of us now,” Elmer gripped his shoulder from behind, making him flinch,

“Aw Elmer don’t scare the baby,” Mush teased, giving Race and Albert their cocktails and pulling a beer for Elmer. Race slid across his money, patting Albert on the thigh as he picked up his drink.

“Finish that up boys and then we’re going to dance,” Jack yelled, rolling his hips as he did so. They all cheered, quickly downing their drinks faster than Albert thought was humanly possible as Mush muttered,

“If Davey’s half-under as well we are so fucked.”

Albert was hauled out of his seat by a vibrating Race who tugged him onto the dance floor and into their group, all of them jumping and hollering the lyrics to the music as people moved around them. They were so carefree, so open in their affection for another and it unlocked something deep in Albert’s heart, and as he did the same as they did, he felt something he hadn’t felt for a long time spread it’s tendrils out around his body. After an immeasurable amount of time, a taller man apparently named Davey appeared, wearing somewhat normal clothes but heaps of make-up on his face. He leaned down to kiss Jack square on the mouth and whispered something Albert didn’t hear solemnly, Jack nodded and then pulled him in to dance. He thought he hadn’t been caught watching until Race spoke up from beside him,

“You never seen two guys like that before?” He asked, face clear of any of the earlier playfulness. Albert gulped,

“No, I haven’t,”

“Well you gotta know they ain’t sick, they ain’t got any problems, they just love each other, understand?” Race looked at him sternly. However much fun Albert was having, this was an abrupt reminder that he was an outsider, this wasn’t his scene, and these boys had inevitably been through the pain of betrayal and broken trust and they wouldn’t trust him easily either. In fact, it shocked him how much he initially trusted them,

“I understand, Race,” He said, and Race smiled wolfishly,

“Then we haven’t got an issue,” He went back to dancing, his lithe body curling as he rolled his torso to the song, singing the lyrics into Finch’s mouth. Albert felt a hand at his waist and turned to see Elmer jumping behind him, screaming carelessly. It startled a laugh out of Albert, who then did the same thing. Letting go, flying.

The sun was rising as he stumbled out of the building, laughing at something that definitely wouldn’t be funny if he was sober. The light made him groan and cover his eyes,

“I’m so drunk,” Albert moaned, falling onto Race as the group made their way onto the street. Race, somehow, had sobered up and giggled,

“You need to go home,” He remarked, sliding an arm around his waist, Jack on the other side to keep him upright. Albert agreed,

“Where do you live, kid?” Jack asked, only mildly concerned and Albert gave an address in Lower Manhattan,

“That’s where we live!” Finch yelled and Elmer smacked him over the head, shushing him.

“We’ll take the subway,” Henry said, and Mush groaned as Romeo and Race punched the air. Albert looked to Jack, nose scrunched up and lines of confusion on his forehead,

“Romeo and Race love the subway, both of them are massive nerds, but Mush hates it, he wishes they’d never built it,” Jack explained,

“Damn right I do,” He said, sneering at Race. Race stuck his tongue out at him, skipping ahead happily with Romeo.

True to the earlier conversation, Mush did indeed hate the subway and spent most of it with his head between his knees as Romeo and Race tried to ‘beat physics’ and stay standing up not holding on to anything for the whole ride. Once they got out at the other end, Elmer had to help Mush walk as he complained of the floor pitching beneath him.

Albert’s building looked like every other building: looming, dirty with soot and wrapped in wrought iron fire escapes. They were more names on the buzzer list than Race could count, and a few boys were sitting on the stairs smoking or dangling feet out of their windows to watch the sunrise. One of them spotted the group and observed them quietly before yelling,

“DaSilva’s back,” His voice was heavily accented, like Albert’s would be, Race supposed, if he hadn’t made a conscious effort to rid the Irish. A few cheers went up from around the building, but most people ignored him. The boy who spoke pulled his leg back in the window and slammed it shut. There was silence for a few minutes, and the group looked at each other warily, not quite sure what was about to happen. Albert just looked tired. Jumping at the sound of the door being unlocked, they were glared at by a boy shorter than Henry, if that could be possible,

“And who are these guys?” He said to Albert, ignoring the presence of the others. None of them moved,

“I met these guys at a joint, Spot, be nice,” Albert replied,

“You’re drunk,” Spot stated,

“Wow well fucking done Conlon,”

“Shut up and get in here,” He said, pulling Albert into the building by his collar and shoving him behind him, “He didn’t do anything,” Spot paused, “Weird, did he?” Spot scanned the group, taking in the remnants of make up on Davey’s face and the hickeys on Finch’s neck. Snarling and raising his fists Race stepped forward, ready for a fight. Jack placed a gentle hand on his chest, acknowledging Race’s anger, and letting it flow away,

“No, he didn’t,” Jack said curtly, “Good day.”


	2. CHAPTER 2: DENIAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mm yeah sweet sweet fluff

In the following days Race couldn’t get Albert out of his mind. The way his moved his hips instinctively to the music was ingrained in his brain, as well as the broad toothy smile he gave at stupid jokes and sarcastic comments. He rubbed his hands across his face, gazing glumly at the food on his plate before him. It was mid-afternoon, and he was taking a break from designing some steelwork for the latest company to request his engineering skills. With the current boom, his pockets were filling quickly, and he’d finally had enough to move out of his adoptive mother’s house. A sharp knock at the door awoke him from his reverie, and he ambled across the apartment to get it, socked feet padding lightly on his wooden floor. Opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of Jack and Davey, Davey was holding cakes in one hand with other snaked around Jack’s waist and was back in his usual work attire – a smart grey suit, his long legs still visible without the dress,

“What is this?” Race asked, distrusting of both of them,

“This is a party for your first crush in four months!” Jack said brightly, pushing past him into the house, taking the cakes from Davey and putting them down on the table. Race, still holding the door, looked at Davey bewildered,

“I tried to persuade him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen,” Davey shrugged and stepped in, joining Jack at the table. Race trudged over and took a cake, shoving it into his mouth. Jack raised an eyebrow at him,

“I don’t have a crush,” Race held up a finger, “I just like cake,”

Jack scoffed, “Yeah, sure,”

“I don’t!” Race protested, spraying cake everywhere,

“Tell that to your blush right now,” Davey said,

“Not you too,” Race whined and they both laughed at him, “This isn’t funny because there’s nothing to laugh at,”

“I don’t know, Racer, I think the existence of a certain redhead proves the contrary,” Davey replied, taking a bite of Jack’s cake when he offered it. Race slumped back in his chair,

“He’s probably not going to come back,” He grumbled,

“So, you admit you want him to come back?” Jack asked and Race leaned over to hit his arm,

“Only because he was fun, nothing else,”

“Of course, Race, we wouldn’t expect anything else,” Davey said, lips pressed together as he held back a smile.

“Wait, what’s the time?” Jack said, instantly worried,

“What’s up, babe?” Davey said, body turning to face him. Race hesitated,

“Half past three,”

“Shit,” Jack whispered, “I’m meant to be helping with a delivery at the lodge right now, see you later Race,” He grabbed Davey by the arm, tangling their fingers as he rushed out the door. Race waved a hand at them as they left, and turned back to his designs, this time with cake to go with it.

Romeo came around later for dinner and mentioned Albert in passing, too focused on the equation they were working on together to fully interrogate Race. Small blessings, he reminded himself. After that the rest of the week blitzed past, with a mixture of his internship and college and visiting Medda he had enough to do but couldn’t stop thinking about Albert and his shy eyes. That was probably why he only got 80 on his aerodynamics test and almost stabbed a pencil into his hand while sketching out a diagram of a bridge. Medda was not best impressed to say the least,

“Antonio will you goddamn concentrate?” She asked, hands on her hips in the archway from her dining room into the kitchen, “I don’t want blood on my table,”

“Sorry, Medda,” Race said, smiling apologetically and going back to his drawing,

“Who’s got you so distracted?” She said and came into the room, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite Race. Her skirt flowed onto the floor around her,

“Maybe it’s not a who,” He huffed frustratedly and rubbed out a line, going over it lightly to try and get it straight,

“Oh please, baby, I know when you got someone on your mind,” Medda leant forward and put a hand over his, stilling it. She had long pink nails tacked on, and her hand was bigger than his, covering it in a comforting way,

“Just someone I saw at the ball,” He muttered, biting a nail. Medda took that hand too and held them both in her own,

“That red-haired kid?” She said. Race nodded,

“He’s called Albert,”

“He’s no jocker is he?”

“Medda!” Race exclaimed, outraged,

“I’m just checking my baby isn’t going around with some no-good straight man,” She sang, mischief glinting in her eyes,

“I’m not going with anyone; I don’t even know if he’s into guys,” He shrugged, “He was fun, that’s it,” Race heard the door slam and an outcry of ‘ow!’ as Jack inevitably fell down the step into Medda’s apartment like every time he came in, “Some people, however, think it’s more than that,” He yelled loud enough for Jack to hear. Said boy came in grinning like a hyena,

“Are we talking about Race’s crush on Albert?” He punched Race in the shoulder and dropped a kiss on Medda’s head, toeing off his shoes, shoving them onto her shoe rack and hanging his hat on a peg,

“Yes,” Medda said at the same time that Race said,

“It’s not a fucking crush, Jack,”

“Language,” Medda reprimanded more for her peace of mind than anything else,

“Oo, touchy,” Jack said, holding up his hands in surrender, “You know I saw him the other day,” He said casually, snatching a bag of chips from Medda’s cupboards. Race involuntarily perked up and Medda eyed him suspiciously,

“He had this tank top on and was carrying these big wooden beams around, bright red and puffing,” Jack grinned and Race dropped his head into his hands and grumbling about ‘irritating older brothers’.

“Jack stop teasing your brother,” Medda said, “I think you’ve had your fun, and put those back, I’m making you dinner,”

All Race could think about was the image of Albert in a tank top showing off the muscles Race knew he had because he had seen them through his tight black button-up he’d been wearing at the ball. But it wasn’t a crush. Just a friend. An acquaintance even, he didn’t even know where Albert worked.

“I think he works down at Chelsea piers on the ocean liners, by the way, he looks strong enough to do that,” Jack called from the kitchen where he was ‘taste testing’ their dinner. Race dropped his head on to the table and it shook, the cutlery tinkling as it moved,

“If you’re putting your head on the table, I’m going to be very displeased,” Medda shouted and Race sat up, muttering an apology. Over dinner they discussed Race’s internship, what Jack was actually planning to do with his life which resulted in him storming off and running around the block before coming back and apologising and the latest rising stars at Hamilton Lodge.

“Davey’s still the best,” Jack said proudly, puffing out his chest,

“Damn right he is, baby, who would’ve thought a shy english teacher like that had it in him,” Medda ruffled his hair, clearing away their plates. Jack got up and kissed her on the cheek, citing Davey as his reason for leaving. The sound of the door slamming was accompanied by an ‘ow!’ as he fell up the step. Medda looked at Race, really looked at him, taking in his features: the small myriad of scars criss-crossing the bridge of his nose, the dark bags under his eyes that had been growing heavier every day for months and his curly hair that was too long when it wasn’t styled up,

“What?” He asked, he felt like a caged animal, like Medda had him trapped and was going to get out of him whatever she wanted,

“You look tired, Antonio,” She said, eyes wet and biting her lip,

“It’s just school,” He said,

“No, baby, you haven’t seemed okay in a long time,” She sat down beside him, placing a hand on his knee, “What’s going on?” He bit his lip, tears gathering in his eyes,

“After Thomas left, I guess things just haven’t been the same,” He said, looking to his lap “I can pay for my apartment, but it feels empty. I can go to the balls and play cards, but it doesn’t feel right. The only thing I enjoy doing by myself is going to the races or betting on the baseball because he never liked that. Last Friday was the only time the ball actually was fun in ages,” Race confessed, a tear escaping down his cheek. Medda pulled him in and hugged him, her arms extending around him like they did after a bad day at school when he was a child. It took him back, and for some reason that was comforting, so he snuggled minutely closer,

“You should move back in here,” She said, and Race immediately began to protest. She held up a hand to stop him, “Just listen, I would love to have you back here, you’re my son and I love you, and I can keep an eye on you, make sure things don’t go downhill.”

“Okay,” He said quietly,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll bring my stuff over tomorrow.”

Race ended up taking a little over two hours to bring his stuff to Medda’s and cancel his lease with his landlord, and seeing as he had no classes, he went to the art store to get some more pencils and paper. Browsing the pencil section, he was picking out a couple he liked when someone rushed into him,

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” He bit out, whirling round to face whoever and bumped into him. In front of him stood a blushing Albert rubbing the back of his head, tank top on, as Jack had promised, showing off his muscular arms, “Albert?” Race said, shocked,

“Yeah, hi,” He trailed off, looking at the floor,

“I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you, how’s it going?” Race recovered smoothly as possible, now also blushing,

“Just the usual, you know, work and all that,” He said casually, leaning on a set of shelves which tumbled to the floor as soon as he put weight on them. He scrunched his eyes shut and winced,

“Albert!” A voice yelled and then let out a torrent of Irish. Albert excused himself and then turned to shout back in Irish. Fuck, Race thought, that’s hot. Who thought Irish could be hot? Not Race, but apparently it was when Albert was speaking it. Wait. No. Irish was not hot, and it definitely wasn’t hot when Albert was speaking it,

“Hey Race, you good?” Albert said, waving a hand in front of his face,

“Yeah, just distracted,” Race shook himself out, “This place belongs to your family?”

Albert nodded, “It belongs to one of my cousins, I work down at the docks,”

“Oh cool,” Race acted as if he didn’t already know that, “I do an internship and college combined engineering thing,” He gestured in circles with his hands and Albert laughed, smile lines showing in his face making it brighten up,

“That’s a lot more accomplished than me,”

“Eh, I’m just a professional nerd,”

“Damn right you are, don’t play down your achievements,” Albert said, laughter still in his voice, it was infectious, and Race began to laugh too,

“Okay, okay,” He giggled, “Oh! Are you coming back tomorrow?”

Albert wrung his hands, “You think I could?”

“Of course,” Race said, “Plus Davey’s sister and her partner are coming too,”

“Okay,” Albert drew out the syllable, “On one condition,”

“Spill,”

“You don’t let me drink that much ever again,”

Race laughed, running a hand through his hair, “You got it,”

“Alright, now buy your pencils and get outta here,”

“Yes sir,” He teased, squeezing Albert’s hip as we went past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a short one but hey, it's here
> 
> a comment a day keeps the doctor away, did u know that? ;))


	3. CHAPTER 3: MEETING THE GROUP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as the title said, some wider group shenanigans.

“Albert!” Elmer yelled, spotting him weaving through the crowd to get to the bar. He came up to them, giving each a hug as he greeted them. Race swore he felt his hand lingering on his back, but he wasn’t thinking about that,

“Sarah, Katherine, this is Albert,” Race explained. The girls leaned forward to allow him to kiss them on the cheeks, “We met him last week.”

“Nice to meet you,” Katherine said. The first thing Albert clocked about her was the tailored dress she was wearing and the dainty accent, she sounded nothing like the harsh voice that led to letters flowing into each other that he and the others had,

“We’ve heard about you,” Sarah said, surveying him. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he joked,

“All good things, I hope,”

“Never anything else, right Sarah?” Davey said, sending her a look that only siblings could decipher,

“Of course,” She licked her lips and put a hand around to Katherine’s hip, pulling her closer to her side,

“Enough chatter,” Jack shouted, “Let’s party!”

They cheered, Race put his arm around Albert’s shoulder, and headed out to the dance floor together.

Albert managed to keep his hands to himself for the first hour, just revelling in the liberty of the scene and hollering when a particularly gorgeous performer strutted on the stage as the others did. He felt like he was getting into the scene like they were, some parts still shocked him, like the fact that Davey taught english to high schoolers and came to this place every other Friday to dress in drag and win prizes. That however, he guessed, was part of the eccentricity of it all – that you could be two people and have no one question it. A double life, where you got the best of both of worlds. He saw the attraction in it.

“Hey,” Davey said, “You good?” He’d danced over to him when he saw Albert lost in thought, patting Jack on the back as he slid past him,

“I think I need to go somewhere quiet for a minute,” Albert replied, leaning in to speak into Davey’s ear. He nodded,

“I have somewhere we can go,” He snatched up Albert’s wrist and dragged him across the floor, following the same path Race had taken the week before to the black door. Once inside, they walked down the same corridor until they came to a door for a ‘private lounge’, as it described on the front. Davey took a key off his necklace and unlocked it, pushing it forward and allowing Albert to go in first.

The room had large blood red couches along the wall and a rug to match them. Just like the lighting in the dressing room, it was warm and low, allowing a mysterious, hazy atmosphere to occur,

“Sorry about the haze,” Davey said, “They like to smoke in here even after I told them not to.”

“It’s fine,” Albert said tightly and dropped down onto one of the couches, running his hands up and down his thighs. Davey kicked the door shut with his foot and sat next to him,

“You better tell me what’s going on, because I’m missing the ball and my boyfriend for this,”

Albert sucked in a breath through his teeth, “The way you feel about Jack, that feel natural, like God inclined it?”

Davey chuckled, “Honey, Jack and I… it’s like heaven on earth, and if God didn’t incline it, if he didn’t create a world where we can love how we do, then he didn’t create the world at all.”

Albert hummed, “I just-,” He paused, appearing to fight within himself, “I’ve loved girls, and I’m not lying, I’ve enjoyed being with girls but when I look at some of the guys, I feel the same as I felt for those girls. I can’t make it fit,” He finished, looking to Davey who was regarding him with warm, open eyes,

“Sweetheart, you think any of us need to fit in a place like this?”

And in an instant, everything clicked, and the stars aligned. He realised that people didn’t need to fit, that attraction or whatever this was didn’t need to fit, didn’t need to ‘make sense’ or have a box with an explanation pasted on the front like stocks on a shop shelf. The balls were the collection of people who’d been enlightened, who’d seen that people need to just be and left alone, who’d concluded that you aren’t going to understand everything about yourself, and that’s okay.

“Jesus Christ,” Albert whispered, sliding his hands down his face, “I’m allowed to live how I want to here, aren’t I?” He looked to Davey with watery eyes and his face had returned to something reminiscent of when he was child, wide open features and mouth always tugged up into a half-smile,

“Yeah,” Davey replied quietly, holding back a grin, “Yeah, you are.”

Albert exhaled and breathed deeply a few times, his chest rising and falling under his emerald shirt,

“Let’s get back out there,” He said, standing up. Holding his chin high, he followed Davey out into the hallway and onto the dance floor to join their group. They were greeted by smiles and high fives as Albert moved around Jack and Davey to dance next to Elmer,

“Everything good?” Elmer yelled into his ear. Albert grinned,

“Just swell,” He said and began to leap to the song as Elmer was, throwing his head back and laughing at his antics. However, when he looked around to locate Race in the crowd, he was nowhere to be seen and that made Albert feel… things. He could’ve gone off with someone, but that made Albert’s stomach roll like he was much more drunk than he was. Stopping the jumping, he scanned the crowd again to have a better look to see if Race was just dancing in a different area. He took in the array of people in front of him, trying to place each face, and none of them were Race’s. Concerned, he leant over to tug at Jack’s sleeve,

“Where’s Race?” He shouted and Jack looked around, then shrugged his shoulders,

“Don’t know,” He said, “But don’t worry about it, alright?”

Albert nodded, slightly soothed by Jack’s blasé attitude towards Race’s disappearance, and turned back to what he was doing, albeit still worried for his whereabouts.

Race had spotted three men coming into the lodge together wearing white vests and black suspenders with pomade flattened hair and moustaches on their upper lips and immediately had made towards them, hoping to get to them before they reached the floor. Albert had vanished with Davey moments earlier, but he still didn’t want there to be any hint that this kind of trouble was in his life. In Race’s experience, having this kind of authority hanging over you was not appealing to say the least. He hurried over and stopped them at a table,

“What are you doing here?” He hissed at them, pulling them back against the wall. The gloom and smoke enveloped them and created a shield around them, not letting any prying eyes see them. The tallest one in the middle of the triangle they were standing in spoke first,

“Boss wants to see you,” He said. His accent was thick and silky, and he smirked as he spoke, as if he knew he was putting Race into the lion’s den and took pleasure from it,

“Couldn’t this have waited for another time?” Race hissed again, not wanting this conversation to be overheard,

“You moved out of your apartment, we had to find you somehow,” The one on the left piped up, fiddling with his bowler hat. The middle one elbowed him, hard,

“Shut up, Oscar,” He said, “I told you not to speak.”

Race rolled his eyes, “Tell him I’ll come by tomorrow, Morris, and don’t ever come back here, please.”

Oscar wrinkled his nose, “Don’t worry, we won’t,” He was looking at the floor of grinding bodies, men dancing with men and women dancing with women, different races mingling together. Morris slapped him on the back of his head, and turned on his heel, marching his two accomplices back across to the door. They opened it and slipped through just as Race spun around to see Albert a few inches from his face,

“Jesus, Al,” He said, heart rate jumping up, “Don’t act so sneaky,”

Albert grinned, “Sorry, I was looking for you,”

“Well now you’ve found me,” Race replied, slinging an arm over Albert’s shoulder. The skin to skin contact made his heart sing and pound, Albert was warm and sweaty but that didn’t put Race off, he just gripped tighter. Albert studied him,

“Who were those guys?” He said, gesturing to the door where the men had just left. Race groaned inwardly,

“Just some fellas I know, nothing you need to worry your pretty head about,” He said, pasting on a smile. Albert seemed to regard him suspiciously, lines forming on his forehead, and then they smoothed out, his easy grin coming back to rest on his lips,

“You think I’m pretty?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at Race, who laughed in response,

“Stop acting like a doll and maybe I’ll say it again,” Race said, leading him back to their friends, “I only go with men.”

Albert couldn’t control his smile, “I think I can live with that.”

“Live with what?” Romeo whirled around to face them, sweat dripping down his face. Race patted his shoulder,

“Nothing you need to worry about, Romes,”

Romeo looked between the two of them, taking in the sweat and giggles, the closeness of their bodies and added that to the fact that he hadn’t seen either in a while,

“Sure,” He said, narrowing his eyes at both of them and going back to dancing with Mush who was yelling at a performer on the stage. Albert looked down to Race,

“Oh my god, he thinks…” He said, cutting himself off to burst out laughing. Race felt it like a stab in the heart – Albert thought the idea that they could have been doing something was laughable. He quickly mirrored Albert’s reaction,

“I mean it does kinda look like it,” Race said cheekily, masking the sting of it with humour as he always did. Albert slapped him on the chest with the back of his hand, mock scandalised,

“It takes a lot more than that to make me put out, you know,” He said, and Race’s head whipped up to look at him, seeing if he was being serious. There was teasing on his face in the way he was half-smiling at Race, as if trying to hold back his full radiant grin, but there was also a glint in his eye. One that was seeming to challenge Race, almost as if he wanted Race to try to make him put out. And one thing Race Higgins would never back down from was a dare,

“Oh yeah?” He said, smirking and Albert nodded,

“I’m a proper gentleman,” He puffed out his chest, “I have standards,” He winked at Race, which made him double over laughing,

“Shut up, you idiot, let’s keep dancing,” He laughed and pulled Albert into the dance circle their group had created, squeezing Sarah’s wrist when she raised an eyebrow at him.

They left earlier than they did the week before, Katherine and Sarah complaining about how they had to work in the morning and couldn’t be desperately late back. They lived in the opposite direction to the boys and so they said their goodbyes outside the lodge,

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Albert,” Katherine said, pecking him on the cheek,

“Same to you, Katherine,” He replied, moving back to Race’s side when he was out of her grip. Sarah just patted him on the head and smiled, waving over her shoulder as she and Katherine linked hands and strutted off. Jack’s eyes lingered on them for a moment before shaking himself out and stepping backward to put himself in Davey’s arms,

“Oh Race, you can’t go back to Medda’s tonight, Teddy’s around,” Jack said, eyes half closed as Davey rocked him side to side,

“You couldn’t have told me this earlier?!” Race sputtered. Albert looked between them, the others had already left, and it seemed that there was some unspoken rule that no one ever went around to Jack and Davey’s apartment,

“You can come back to mine, if you want,” Albert offered, making eye contact with Race. He scrunched up his face, rubbing his fists into his eyes,

“That’s awful kind Albert but I’m not sure I can accept,” He said, “What about your roommate?”

Albert looked to the sky and huffed, “Spot will just have to suck it up,” He said, and when he looked back down at Race his eyes were drenched with fire. Race felt his breath catch,

“Okay,” He said, gobsmacked, trying to bring his brain back online. Albert flashed him one of his boyish smiles,

“Great,” He said, “Bye Jack, Bye Davey,”

They waved at the two as Race and Albert walked off together, Race bounding ahead to scare a bird and Albert laughing at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayooooo here we are chapter 3. the wifi is down at my mum's, so i'm going to my dad's. wish me luck. at least i can use his amazon prime to binge treadstone.


	4. CHAPTER 4: ACCEPTANCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> omg they shared a bed

It took them ten minutes to reach Albert’s building and another five minutes to find Albert’s keys in his pockets,

“How do you manage to lose them in your own clothes?” Race said, attempting to stifle the giggles threatening to spill from his mouth. Albert patted himself down and made a triumphant noise when he found them in his trousers. He unlocked the door and let Race step in first, then led him up the grimy staircase that smelled of things Race didn’t want to think about to his apartment. Albert lived five floors up in apartment number 18, the door looked thin and hollow and there were scratches on the door handles where it looked like someone had tried to break in. He caught Race looking at them,

“That was my brother,” He explained, sliding the key in the lock and jiggling the door trying to turn it. Eventually the lock clicked, and the door swung open revealing a dark hallway with shoes and coats scattered along the side leading into a lounge with a brown couch and radio left carelessly on their coffee table. There was a door to their immediate left with Race guessed was a bathroom and one on the right which Albert motioned to keep quiet as he opened. He peaked his head in, twisting his body in a way that gave Race a view of a sliver of pale, freckled skin above his pants. Seemingly happy with what he was looking at, Albert pulled the door to and crossed the living room, pushing open another door,

“This is my room,” He whispered, “You can have the bed,”

“C’mon, I’m crashing, I should take the couch,” Race whispered back. Albert shook his head vigorously,

“You do not want to sleep on that couch, I’ll take it,”

Race crossed his arms, “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,”

Albert groaned quietly, “Fine, we’ll both sleep on the bed, but you’ll regret arguing tomorrow when you have bruises from me kicking you in my sleep,”

Race’s heart sped up at the thought of them sharing a bed and being so close to each other, “I don’t think I will,” He said and Albert looked at him unimpressed, then turned to go into his bedroom, Race on his heels. They stripped down to their underwear and undershirts, then climbed into the bed, noses almost touching,

“Goodnight, Racer,” Albert whispered. Race could feel the warmth of his breath on his cheeks,

“Night, Al,” He replied, gazing into his eyes, he saw Albert’s Adam’s apple bob and then he turned over without stealing all the covers, which made Race positively swoon. Wait. That was very domestic, Race thought. And then it hit him in the face like a bus, lying in Albert’s bed in the dark at almost 2am in the morning, Race realised he had a crush on Albert. Fuck.

It was safe to say that Race did not sleep well that night, and Albert did indeed kick him, and he got bruises. They woke up at 10am, and by ‘they’ I mean Albert because Race had been awake for hours, and Albert rolled back over to look at Race,

“Morning,” He said,

“Morning,” Race replied softly, pushing a lock of red hair out of Albert’s eyes, “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” He yawned and stretched his arms out above his head giving Race a perfect view of muscles, “You?”

“Eh, it was alright, you were kicking me,”

Albert chuckled, rubbing dust out of his eyes, “Didn’t I tell you that would happen,” He looked at Race, pressing his lips together and smiling lightly. A line of yellow light was cutting across his face diagonally making his normally green eyes look hazel; Race thought morning Albert was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen,

“I’m hungry,” Race said, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up, pulling on his pants and fastening suspenders on them and putting them over his shoulders, the white vest he was wearing letting Albert gaze at his toned shoulders,

“We got enough food to feed thousands,” He said, throwing a cable knit sweater and some soft work pants from his chest of drawers on. He and Race exited their room together to find Spot on the couch with the radio on, sipping coffee and turning the pages of a newspaper. When he saw Race, he narrowed his eyes,

“What’s he doing here?” Spot said and Albert walked up the back of the couch and smacked him on the head,

“His name is Race and he crashed here last night because he couldn’t go back to his mam’s,” Race’s heart fluttered at the Irish pronunciation of mom, “Be nice,”

Spot rolled his eyes, “Whatever,” He said, and Albert snorted, leading Race into the kitchen. Race hopped up to sit on a counter as Albert moved around him, putting bread into a toaster and making more coffee for both of them,

“Is he always like that?” Race asked, clutching a cup of coffee in his hands,

“Nah,” Albert replied, “He’s just paranoid, doesn’t want any trouble with the cops or nothing,” Race hummed, taking a large gulp out of the mug, “He’s soft really,” Albert continued, pausing to lean back on the table opposite Race,

“That’s what Jack’s like, he’s always real angry, but he means well,”

That spiked Albert’s curiosity more than he liked to admit. Ever since he’d met them, he wondered what the connection between Jack and Race was, the group as a whole seemed to be friends because of the balls, but Jack and Race were brothers – and they looked nothing alike,

“If you don’t mind me asking, how are you and Jack related?” Albert said, casually as possible. Race saw straight through him and laughed,

“You want to know that story, do you?” He grinned,

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-,”

“Albert, it’s fine, I’ll tell you,” Race cut him off. This story was personal, extremely personal, but his crush on Albert was making him do stupid things and this was one of them. He seemed trustworthy enough, Race reasoned with himself, “Jack was a newsie until Medda pick him right off the streets, this was 1912 or something, he’s three years older than me so he was 9. Jack’s birth family weren’t good to him, he was real skittish and afraid or so angry he’d break and throw things, it took a while to smooth things out. My family, well, let’s just say they aren’t always on the good side of the law,”

“You’re a Mafiosi,” Albert cut in, realisation dawning across his face. Race looked at him, features hardening,

“I’m not,” He said through gritted teeth, “I chose not to be,”

“But your family are Mafiosi,” Albert pointed out, “Which family are you from?”

“I’m a Luciano,” Race had no idea why he was telling Albert this, “But I’m not one of them, that’s why Medda’s my mom,”

Albert saw how distressed Race was, heard the desperation in his voice, almost begging, “It’s okay, Race,” He said, “I get it,”

Race’s shoulders dropped from where they’d tensed to his ears, “I’m not like that,” He said quietly, looking into his mug, “I’m not violent like them,”

“I know,” Albert leant forward to put a hand on Race’s knee. He looked at Albert’s hand then up into his eyes, mouth parting slightly. Time seemed to freeze. The two of them in Albert’s kitchen, connected by one hand, emotions swirling around them, breaths shallow, secrets admitted. Race’s heart leapt for the intimacy of it, most people at Hamilton Lodge weren’t after romance, they wanted someone to sleep with until they got bored and moved on to find someone else, but this was what Race craved. Saturday mornings in the kitchen with the smell of coffee wafting around them, laughing, chatting and touching and just being. He hoped Albert wanted the same,

“Um,” They were interrupted by Spot coughing from the doorway, Albert leapt back to his space on the table and Race ran a hand through his hair and crossed his legs, taking a large gulp of coffee, “I was just coming to get some juice,” Spot said, looking between the two of them,

“Yeah,” Albert cleared his throat, “Sure,”

Spot nodded and walked in, taking some juice out the fridge and pouring himself a glass, then retreating back into the lounge. Albert looked at Race nervously, who just looked away and jumped off the counter,

“I best be going,” He said, “Medda will want me back and I’ve got an errand to run,”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Albert replied, putting down his coffee and blowing his hair out of his eyes, “I’ll go grab your stuff,” He hurried out of the kitchen across to the other side of the lounge and into his bedroom.

Race breathed a sigh of relief as he left, he was about to kiss him right in the open of his apartment in front of Spot which he doubted would’ve gone down well. Still, he had wanted to do it so badly, he wanted to know how Albert felt and how he kissed and that was a road Race didn’t need to go down this early in the morning.

“Here’s everything you left,” Albert held out socks, shoes and a shirt,

“Thanks,” Race said and took them, putting on his socks and shoes and throwing on his shirt,

“I’ll walk you down to the road,” Albert said, and Race nodded, following him out of the apartment. They descended the stairs in tense silence, neither quite knowing where they stood or what was acceptable, “Well here you are,”

“Here I am,” Race said, “Thanks for letting me crash last night, I don’t have that many bruises,” He joked, and Albert grinned apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck,

“It’s no problem, see you later, Race,”

Race made the split-second decision to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering close to his body, “See you later,” He whispered, and heard Albert inhale sharply,

“Bye,” He said lowly,

“Bye,” Race echoed and turned, joining the crowd of people moving like a wave down the street.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new character alert

Albert wearily climbed the stairs, pressing down on his knees to hoist himself up each one, lost in thought. Race was turning his world upside down, or maybe not upside down, turning it the right way up, showing him the way he could be living. Maybe even showing him what he was missing. It was a weird thought, the idea that you could live years of your life not having something and not knowing you need it and then when it comes, you can’t live without it. It was probably ridiculous, Albert thought, that one person could make everything fit into place, but that’s how it felt. He could only hope it was the same for Race.

“You want to tell me what you and the fairy were doing last night,” Spot cornered him as soon as he got back, shoving him down onto the couch and pushing another cup of coffee into his hands,

“Don’t call him that,” Albert said harshly,

“Sorry,” Spot bit out, “Race,”

“I told you, he was just crashing because his mam had someone over,”

“So, you have absolutely no feelings for him and didn’t sleep in your bed together,”

“I-,” Albert whined, “That’s irrelevant,”

Spot laughed, disbelieving, “This is the kind of shit that lands you in jail, Albert,”

“Jack and Davey live together and haven’t been sent to jail,” Albert said, “I think times are changing, Spot,”

Spot looked at him, uncertain, and bit his lip, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” Albert groaned,

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,”

Spot seemed to accept this for a minute and took a sip of his coffee, “He’s not Italian, is he?” Albert froze in his tracks, “Oh my god he is, isn’t he?”

“Maybe,” Albert said, and Spot made a disapproving noise, “But he says he doesn’t get involved with the mafia,” Albert protested. Spot stood up, leaving Albert on the couch, and gestured in circles at him,

“I can’t deal with this right now,” He said and stomped down the corridor to his bedroom, slamming the door shut after he went in. Albert dropped his chin to his chest, steadying himself by taking deep breaths and blinking the tears out of his eyes. Spot would come around, he always did when Albert got involved in things he didn’t think were safe, but it stung to not have his support. Tidying up the mugs and the remnants of breakfast, Albert decided to go hang out in his cousin’s art shop again, the atmosphere was always soothing to him.

Race headed back to Medda’s house to assure her that he was alive and change clothes,

“Race, is that you?” She called when she heard his footfalls in the hallway,

“Yeah, Medda, it’s me,” He replied, walking past his room and into their open plan dining room and lounge. Medda was sprawled on the couch in a casual yellow outfit, fanning herself as a jazz singer crooned over the radio,

“How was the ball?” She asked, scanning his figure, noting that he was wearing the same clothes he was wearing the day before,

“Really good,” He said, leaning on the archway,

“Where’d you sleep?”

He faltered, stopping the repetitive tapping of his fingers against his thigh, “Um, Albert’s,” He squeaked. Medda sat up, swinging his legs to the side of the couch, raising her eyebrow at him,

“Was he good?”

Race groaned, tipping his head back, “Why does everyone think we were doing things?”

“So, you were?”

“No,” Race yelled and winced, “No, we weren’t, he just let me crash,” He said at a lower volume. Medda nodded,

“Don’t let him go before someone else sweeps him up, you know how it is at the balls,”

“Yes, mama,” Race said dutifully, smiling at her concern,

“Good boy, now go take a shower and get changed,” She shooed him out of the room, making for the kitchen,

“Oh, you don’t need to make me breakfast,” Race stopped her, “I ate at Al’s,”

“Of course, you did,” She sighed, moving back to her position on the couch as Race whipped around and went into the bathroom to have a shower.

He took half an hour getting dressed, leaving his hair in its natural curls instead of smoothing it down like most other boys his age did. He wore smarter clothes than he usually did, not wanting to potentially aggravate his father when they met later. This meeting was not out of the ordinary, but they always put him on edge, never quite knowing what his father actually wanted out of him.

He left Medda with a kiss on her cheek and ran down the stairs of their apartment building and wanted to skip down the streets but refrained for the fact that he was an adult. The sun was beating down on the city, it being May, and it made the sheen of sweat on his olive skin glitter in the light. He embodied summer, having come from the sea salt and heat and laziness of Sicily. The southern Italian shone through in his features and tinged his accent, making his words have more obvious stressed and unstressed syllables, rolling like the waves into the beaches of his island. He made it to Brooklyn in record time and winked at the Mafiosi he knew were his father’s and stepped into a seemingly empty squatting, sliding in behind a wooden board.

“Nice to see you, Giovanni,” He said, patting a guard on the shoulder. He didn’t acknowledge Race’s presence at all. He trotted down a dingy corridor, ignoring the scratches on the wall and the echoes of screams in his mind from his childhood memories.

The end of the corridor opened out into a dark room with a large mahogany table in the middle with a man, round in the way that implied the luxury of being able to afford lavish meals, sitting at the head of it with a monocle perched on his left cheek. He wore chunky gold rings on his fat, sausage fingers and was regarding the card game in front of him with a smooth, expressionless face, stroking his hairy chin lightly. At the sound of Race’s footsteps his head snapped up and his eyes narrowed when he saw him,

“Antonio is here,” He announced, and the game immediately stopped, all eyes in the room snapped to him and instantaneously the feeling of unsureness swept through his body,

“You wanted to see me,” Race said, forcing any uncertainty out of his voice. The man nodded and motioned for the everyone else to leave the room. They dispersed into different doors or back down the corridor Race had entered through, giving him a wide berth as they did,

“I did,” The man said in a gruff voice, “Sit down, son,” Race pulled out a chair at the opposite end of the table and placed himself carefully onto it, waiting for his father to continue, “We want to get control of the alcohol going into Hamilton Lodge, and don’t lie to me I know Medda is the owner, and I want you to help me,”

“Medda would never accept your stuff, she don’t deal with Italians except me,”

“That’s why you’re perfect to persuade her, I can’t send in anyone else, Antonio, it has to be you,”

“You had no trouble sending the Delanceys and whatever rat they’re hauling around in though on Friday,”

“Please stop with the dramatics, Antonio, it bores me,” He lit a cigar and held it to his mouth, breathing it in, “Will you do it or not?”

Race shook his head, “Medda won’t be moved, and I don’t want your influence anywhere near me. The ball doesn’t do things how you do it,”

“You mean the violence?” He smirked from behind his cloud of smoke, “I know you don’t like it, and you can pretend it isn’t a part of you all you want, but that doesn’t stop it from being in your blood,”

“Shut up!” Race shouted, jumping up, “I know this isn’t about Medda, it’s about this,” He gestured between them, “And I told you I wasn’t becoming part of this and that stands. I’m not going to join you, Dad, ever,”

His father chuckled, tapping his cigar on the side of a glass dish, “You see that anger? That’s what makes you a Mafiosi. I know you can do it, Antonio,” Race inhaled deeply, smoothing down his clothes,

“I said no,” He said, turning to leave, “And I’m coming to beat your ass at poker on Wednesday by the way,” His father smiled and inclined his head,

“Of course,” Race nodded and hurried away down the corridor and back into the open air of Brooklyn. Back into the normal world, he thought. Checking the time, he realised he had enough time to finish his homework for Monday’s classes by tonight and started down the street toward the bridge.

When he got back to the apartment, he found Jack sitting at the table attempting to solve a Rubik’s cube with no luck. His face was scrunched up in frustration and he huffed, throwing it down. It clattered to the floor and Race picked it up,

“They aren’t even that hard,” He said and then took two minutes to solve it,

“Why are you so smart?” Jack complained, slumping down in his chair. Race laughed,

“It’s just sequences, it’s not rocket science,” Jack waved a hand at him,

“That’s not what I’m here to talk about, how was staying at Albert’s?”

“We shared a bed,” Race blurted out, “And I almost kissed him in the morning,”

Jack placed a hand on his chest and gasped, “Race, that’s moving so fast for you,” He said, and Race came over to shove his shoulder and drop into the chair next to him,

“He doesn’t steal the covers,” He said dreamily, and Jack scoffed,

“Davey always does and it’s so annoying,” He took a sip of the water he had on the table,

“He has cable knit sweaters and toast and good coffee and a grumpy roommate but that’s okay because Albert is _so_ hot,”

“I’m guessing you know you like him then,” Jack said, punching him in the chest gently. Race nodded,

“He never has tried to take advantage of me and is really domestic,” He clutched at his heart and mocked falling to the floor, startling a laugh out of Jack,

“You’ve met him twice, Race,” He pointed out, bouncing his knee,

“Three times,” Race argued, “He wouldn’t have come back yesterday if I hadn’t seen him last Wednesday in the art shop. His cousin owns it, you know,”

Jack slapped his palm to his forehead, “You’re so gone, Jesus Christ, I haven’t seen you like this since Thomas,”

“I haven’t felt this alive since Thomas,”

“What?” Jack responded quickly and Race cringed, knowing he shouldn’t have said that,

“I haven’t been doing too well with my head recently, life’s been really dull, I feel like I haven’t enjoyed anything,” He trailed off, “It’s why I moved back in here,” Jack leant over to ruffle his hair and squeeze his hand,

“I’m sorry, Racer, but don’t let your happiness rely on him alone, okay? I know you tend to do that,” Race smiled at him wetly,

“I know Jack, I’m being extra careful this time,”

“I still worry, you’re my baby brother,” He said, “If you need me to bump someone off, I’ll gladly do it,”

Race glared at him, but softened when he realised Jack was joking, “His roommate is not good with it,” He said, “You met him when we took Albert back the first time,”

Jack trawled through his memory until he found the one of the short, stocky boy surveying them from the door of the apartment block, “Oh yeah, what’s his name again?”

“Spot,” Race said, “Spot Conlon,”

“Conlon, huh?” Jack said curiously and Race looked at him,

“You know him?” He asked, surprised,

“I might do,” Jack replied and stood up, “It’s been a long time,” He explained, ruffling Race’s hair one last time before going into the kitchen, leaving Race with thoughts of how Spot could connect to Jack swirling around his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyup another one done. school starts again tomorrow for me and i do not want to go to class. it all seems so pointless yknow? anyway, as always, leave me a comment if u enjoyed!


	6. 6. close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things are heating up yall

The next time Race saw Albert was on Tuesday afternoon when he had gone to the art shop to ask Albert an impulsive question he was bound to regret. The bell tinkled as he went in and the person at the till raised their head from napping on the desk. They squinted dark green eyes at him,

“You Albert’s friend?” They asked blearily,

“Yeah, I’m Race,” He rushed over to shake their hand as he spoke, “Is he around?”

The person nodded, “Albert!” They yelled, “Race’s here!”

Albert’s head popped round the door of the a white barrier into the stock room, wide smile on his face like always, “Hey,” He said, walking over to slide his arms over Race’s shoulder and waist, hugging him tightly, “I wasn’t expecting to see you again until Friday.”

Race laughed weakly, carding a hand through his hair, “I wanted to ask you a question,”

“Ask anything you want,” Albert laughed, his hand sliding down Race’s back as he retracted them back to his side. The contact left shivers running up and down his spine,

“Can you two go flirt somewhere else so I can sleep,” The person at the desk said and Race took in their long red hair and soft, undefined features, realising they were a teenager. Albert gave them the finger and they stuck out their tongue as he pulled Race into the stock room. They walked through a swinging barrier then through a more solid door into the stock room, Albert pulling to behind them and grinning at Race, which made him giggle,

“Why are you so happy?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. Albert shrugged,

“Am I not allowed to be excited to see you?”

“I guess you are…” Race said, toying with the hem of his shirt, “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. My dad is having a poker night tomorrow, and I wanted to ask you to come with?”

Albert raised an eyebrow at him and slid his hands into his belt loops, “Your dad the mafia boss?” Race sighed exasperatedly, “I’m kidding, Race,” Albert punched his shoulder, “I’d love to come,” He said earnestly,

“You would?” Race replied, obviously shocked at Albert’s willingness to engage with his family,

“Course I would. What kind of friend am I to judge you for a family you can’t choose?” His eyes were open and sincere, and his body was marginally tilted towards Race as if there were magnets pulling their chests together,

“A normal one,” Race huffed, crossing his arms. Albert kicked his ankle gently,

“Good job I’m not a normal friend then,” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at Race. They were standing barely a metre apart and it took all Race’s energy not to launch himself at Albert in his family’s shop’s storeroom. There was this pull with Albert, and it felt like standing on a precipice, that if he got too close, he’d do something fantastically irreversible.

“Good job you’re not,” Race agreed, his brain preoccupied with other things like the ledge that he was standing on, not knowing if he was jumping off a cliff or into someone’s arms.

“Are you going to tell me where this poker night is?” Albert pressed his lips together, holding back a laugh. Race hit the side of his head,

“I was getting there,” He said, “I’ll come and get you from your apartment. Wear something nice,” Albert rubbed where Race had hit him in mock hurt, and shoved him out of the stock room, laughing. Race gasped like he’d been offended through his own laughter, tugging a hand through his curls to try and get out a particularly stuck knot. He stilled when he felt a hand cover his own, and turned steadily around to find Albert with his hand on Race’s head,

“Let me,” He said lowly, and took a step forward into Race’s space. The first thing Race noted about him was the scent of sea salt that lingered on his skin, and how his green eyes were flecked with gold if you looked close enough. He carefully pulled apart each piece of hair, chest rising and falling deliciously as Race scanned him from head to toe as he wasn’t looking. He wore brown boots, Race noticed, that were coming away from the soles and weren’t zipped up, allowing his pale ankles to peek through, “There,” He said.

“Thank you,” Race replied quietly, and Albert smiled, removing his hand from Race’s hair but not moving away from his body. He kept his eyes trained Albert’s and felt a hand cup his hip, pressing down lightly, “Albert,” He hissed, “We’re in public.” They were standing just outside the stock room, hidden only in a few square metres of space behind the wall that the cashier’s desk was in front of. The door was thin and flimsy with no handle and swung both ways when you pushed it. They could easily be walked in on. Albert took an impossible step forward, backing Race into the door of the stock room, their toes almost touching,

“That didn’t stop you on Saturday morning,” Albert whispered, looking at where his hand met Race’s hip. Open skin meeting layers of clothing. Freedom meeting walls. Race plucked his hand off and moved it back to his side,

“Not right now,” He said, meeting Albert’s eyes. He gulped and searched Race’s eyes, looking for something he seemed to find, and nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” He moved back and pushed the door to the shop open and went through first, Race following in his path,

“I’ll come at 6pm,” He said, ignoring the eyes of Albert’s cousin watching them as they crossed the shop.

“Sounds good,” Albert leant on the door frame, folding his arms over his chest, as Race turned to wave at him as he left the shop into the hot summer air and disappeared into the throng of afternoon shoppers. Albert was reminded of Saturday once again, Race slipping out of his grasp like sand, not able to hold him in one place long enough to do what he wanted.

*

“And then you left?” Mush said through pasta salad, pointing his fork at Race as they sat in his shared apartment with Romeo and Elmer. Race groaned, squeezing his eyes shut,

“I know, I know, I’m a massive idiot,”

“Yes,” Elmer said matter-of-factly, “Yes you are.” He was perched on the table, turning the pages of a book he had probably had to read for his English literature degree. Romeo turned from where he was fiddling with the radio,

“Even Mush would’ve hit that by now,” He said, dabbing sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. Mush bared his teeth at him and growled. Romeo shrugged and went back to the radio, continuing to twist the dials with limited success,

“It’s just always the wrong moment,” Race bemoaned, dropping his head on to the table,

“I don’t know,” Elmer said, stealing a mouthful of Mush’s pasta, “A storage cupboard sounds kind of romantic,”

“That’s because you usually get with guys in restrooms, Elmer,” Mush deadpanned and Race laughed as Elmer kicked his shins under the table, getting up and grumbling about ‘disrespect’ as he went into the kitchen. Mush shook his head at him fondly, then looked back to Race,

“When is the right moment going to be?” He said, shoving another scoop of pasta in his mouth.

“He’s coming to poker at my dad’s tomorrow,” Race said guiltily. Mush spat his pasta back on to the plate, leaning over to the side and coughing as Romeo turned the dials abruptly and created a high pitch squeaking noise.

“Turn off that noise, what the fuck!” Elmer yelled from the kitchen, he came in with his hands clamped over his ears and glared at Romeo, turning the dials to zero and tackling him to the floor. In the meantime, Mush had recovered and was wiping tears out of his eyes and staring at Race,

“I want to know how you came to the conclusion that that’s a good idea,” He said,

“If I show him this part of me maybe he’ll get scared off,” Mush groaned and he held up a hand, “Or he’ll have seen the worst parts of me and still like me and then he’ll love me forever,”

“You just want to see him in a suit,” Elmer said from the floor on top of Romeo, yelping as Romeo pulled on his dark hair,

“That’s an added extra,” Race admitted sheepishly. Mush stood up from the table,

“If he gets murdered it’s your fault,” He said, dumping the rest of his pasta salad in the trash,

“He’s not going to get murdered,” Race muttered, coming into the kitchen nearer to Mush, who raised an eyebrow at him, “I’m the boss’s son, you know one of the mafia rules is to not touch wives or girlfriends,”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Albert is a boy, and is neither your girlfriend nor your wife,”

“Giovanni has a boyfriend,” Race argued,

“Giovanni is also the most wanted murderer in this city, no one would dare go near him, and you Race, are the prodigal son.” Race crossed his arms petulantly,

“It’s a bad idea, I know, but he needs to know about this,” He said, and Mush nodded sympathetically,

“I get it, Race, just be careful with him, okay?”

“I will be,” Race replied, squeezing Mush’s bicep to placate his worry, and going back into the main room to dive into the fight between Elmer and Romeo.

*

“Jack, you seem kinda off today,” Finch said, dropping a barrel of beer to the floor in the basement beneath the lodge, Jack doing the same beside him,

“Yeah I’m fine, just distracted,” He said, wiping sweat from above his brow with his forearm, “Actually,” He said and Finch paused where he was beginning to climb the stairs, “Do you remember a Spot Conlon from when we were newsies?”

Finch stopped, planting both his feet on the floor, and looked to the ceiling, racking his brain to see if the name held any familiarity, “Yeah,” He replied, “I don’t know how, but I do.”

“Same, Race’s new boy Albert is roomies with him,” Jack said, “And apparently he ain’t too hot about fellas like me and you,”

“Which is weird,” Finch continued, scrunching up his face and rubbing a hand over it, “Because the Spot Conlon I knew was the biggest queer I ever met.” Jack nodded,

“I haven’t seen him in like, almost fifteen years or something,” He put his hands on his hips, “I’m just wondering how someone can turn around completely like that.” Finch stayed quiet for a minute, then shrugged his shoulders,

“You know how it is,” He said, “It just don’t work out for some people,”

“I just find it weird is all,” Jack admitted, “I thought he died to be honest.” He walked across the room to the stairs and manoeuvred around Finch, going up the stairs. Finch followed directly behind him,

“You could always ask Albert if it’s bothering you that much.” Jack looked down to him,

“I doubt if anything happened, he would have told anyone,” He said, “Maybe we can get him to come to one of the balls.” He stepped out into the sun, hauling another keg where they were hidden at the back of the lodge, people ushering those carrying them into the shadows as quick as possible.

“Maybe,” Finch agreed, muscles flexing as he hoisted another barrel onto his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hihihi!! i hope everyone is doing okay, we've got another three weeks of lockdown at least in the uk, but fortunately for me my school is being very liberal with work. also, should i take one of ben's dance classes? i've been dancing for a long time but idk if i'm good enough. hhhhh. anyway. i love yall all very much and a comment would really make my day pretty please *puppy eyes*
> 
> peace, g x


	7. 7. gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poker haha

Standing in front of his mirror, Race brushed invisible dust from his pants, studying himself. Usually he would grab a standard suit from his closet and not care, but today wasn’t usual, and after the tension between the two of them in the stock room, Race was eager to make a smooth recovery with a slim-fitting, sharp-lined black suit. The jacket cut into his waist just so that the curve that he did have was on show and the pants hugged his legs tight enough to hint at his muscles, but not enough to be daring. He’d ran some gel through his hair in an attempt to make his curls stay put, although he knew they would undoubtedly fall into his face at some point. His last accessory to add was his heavy silver watch given to him by his father. It was a signature item of the mafia, a sign of wealth and status and beckoned authority whenever a person saw someone wearing one. Race only wore it to events like these. Lastly, he slid a thin gold ring onto his left middle finger,

“I love you always, mamma,” He whispered in Italian and turned away from the mirror, grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out of the house, “See you later, Medda!” He called out as he left,

“Bye, baby, stay safe!” She yelled back and he shut the door, chasing down the stairs and onto the street, ready for the short walk to Albert’s. The evening was barely cooler than the day, and the sun was still high in the sky, casting a golden glow across the city. Race imagined how Albert looked in his kitchen in this kind of light, large windows allowing gold to pool on his cheek bones and the dimple in his chin, making his eyes shine even more than they already did when he laughed. It was a beautiful image. Race hoped he got the opportunity to see it one day.

He reached Albert’s apartment building just on time to see him leaning on the outside with his jacket thrown over his left shoulder, sharing a cigarette with a man Race hadn’t seen before. Albert laughed and took a drag as the other man said something, he shook his head to the floor, still giggling, then looked up right into Race’s eyes. He grinned, and knocked the man’s elbow,

“Hey Race,” He said as Race came towards them, suspicious of what was going on, “This is Tommy, he lives opposite me.” Race nodded at him,

“Nice to meet you,” He said shortly, and turned to Albert, “You ready to go?” He asked. Albert slung an arm around his waist,

“Can’t wait,” He said, “Bye Tommy.”

“Bye Albert, see ya later,” He said, and Albert mock saluted him, clinging to Race as they walked down the street towards the bridge. They walked in silence for a few minutes, allowing the noise of the city fill the air around them. It was peaceful in a way that only New York could do peace, and by the time they’d crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, Albert was starting to want to ask questions.

“You told your dad I’m coming?” He asked, looking at Race who was tucked under his arm,

“No, I haven’t,” Race said, “He’ll be fine though, he’s just glad I’m coming.” Albert hummed his response, pulling Race closer into him as they passed the threshold into the Italian part of Brooklyn. It made his insides sing knowing that Albert was subconsciously trying to protect him, even though Race would never have any threats here. He was more likely to be attacked in Manhattan than in Brooklyn where people looked twice at him, connecting him to the most active mafia in the area immediately. Race stopped outside them outside a dark alleyway, rats scurrying in and out of the darkness. It was a different place to the house he’d visited on Friday, and if you listened hard enough, you could hear the tones of a jazz singer wailing from inside the adjacent building.

“I’ve never been to one of these before,” Albert said, peering down the alley. Race’s head snapped to look at him,

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to Irish ones, obviously, but never an Italian one,”

“Well let’s go in then.” Race said and lead him down the alley to a door where he knocked a pattern and it swung open. Giovanni was standing on the inside, arms crossed and stoic as usual, and of course, he ignored Race’s jabs as he pushed past, grabbing Albert by the hand and tugging him in.

A jazz singer was sitting on a stool on a makeshift stage, she was singing, but she wasn’t being heard over the din of many Italians yelling at each other about cards and throwing money down on tables. Race and Albert skirted through the room to a door at the back, which Race opened carefully and slid through, motioning for Albert to follow. The door led to a dimly lit room with one circular table in the centre with men sitting around it, studying cards and moving chips around,

“Papa,” Race greeted, slipping into his natural Italian tongue, “I’m here, I’ve brought Albert. He’s a friend of mine.” It was clear by the red tinge on his father’s cheeks that he was already drunk. He sat back and raised his arms wide out to the sides,

“Bring him here, Antonio,” He boomed, “Let me get a good look at him,”

Albert looked at Race nervously, who just chuckled, and pushed him forward, following Albert around the table as he dragged his feet to meet Race’s dad,

“He’s not going to strangle me, is he?” Albert hissed and Race laughed,

“No, he’s not, just go and meet him, Al.”

Race’s father squished Albert’s face between his hands, glaring at him intently, moving his face from side to side to look in his ears. When he was done with his analysis, he hummed and patted Albert’s cheek, letting him step back towards Race,

“It seems that he is healthy,” He said, snapping his fingers at a waiter who’d just entered the room, “Bruno, get these two some beer.” The waiter nodded and disappeared back the way he came. Race’s father gestured for the two to sit down and dealt Race into a game of cards, Albert taking a seat behind him to watch.

The game was lightning fast, money being thrown down onto the table along with anything else that came out of pockets and cards were exchanged in an instant, the game going in and out of people’s favour in a matter of seconds. It was nothing like Albert had ever seen, but seeing Race in his element, nose wrinkled in concentration and tongue peeking out of his mouth, was doing things to Albert. He hadn’t been able to connect the mafia to Race before, but the way he played these games was a definite indicator of his blood line, and birth right. He was ruthless, he played hard and fast and gambled everything on a hunch, clearing people out of all their money in half a second. Albert couldn’t keep up or even understand, however, he could revel in Race’s brilliance as he snatched up a packet of cigars his dad had gambled as the game ended. Albert had downed his beer, but Race’s lay untouched and Albert could see him breathing harshly as if he’d just sprinted a mile,

“That was intense,” Albert remarked as Race sipped his beer delicately,

“It always is,” Race replied, counting the notes he’d won and handing them and the cigars to Albert,

“Who actually won?” He asked and Race laughed, a soft tinkling sound filling the air around them as the rest of the men lounged back on their chairs to smoke or headed back to the bar to listen to the singer,

“No one really wins, but I got the most money out of everyone,”

“How can no one win?” Albert said, confusion written all over his face. Race patted his head,

“It’s an old Italian game, you wouldn’t understand.” He smiled at Albert cheekily as he got up, and Albert smacked his ass in retaliation as he climbed over with their beer glasses to refill them. Race gasped, looking back at Albert like he’d been scandalised. “Mr DaSilva,” He said, putting on a southern accent, “How could you defile me in such a way in a public place?” Albert giggled in response,

“Mr Higgins it was just too tempting,” He joked, matching Race’s southern accent with his own, making Race laugh and shake his head,

“Keep your hands to yourself,” He said, raising an eyebrow at Albert and leaning in to whisper in his ear, “What I said about being in public yesterday still stands.” He was momentarily serious, and Albert nodded, understanding what Race was saying,

“What about when we’re not in public?” He challenged, smirking and leaning back on his chair, spreading his legs the tiniest bit wider than they were before. Race winked at him,

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” He replied, turning on his heel and walking out of the room. Albert laughed to himself, the flirting with Race making him feel euphoric. His life was so much better for having Race in it, he gave him a distraction at work when the physical side of it got tough, he gave him a bounce in a step and smile when he sat in his kitchen drinking coffee thinking of the moment they’d shared on Saturday. They’d only known each other a few weeks, but it felt like Race had completed a puzzle Albert didn’t even know he was stuck on.

“You like him,” Race’s father said from behind him, downing an espresso shot. Albert flicked his head to look at him,

“We’re friends,” He said carefully, not sure where this was leading, and it occurred to him he didn’t know his name, “What should I call you? Race never gave me a name,”

“Ah,” He said, “You can call me Ludo, my real name is far too long.” He waved his hand dismissively. Albert filed away the information, not wanting to forget Race’s father’s name. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” Ludo said, “I know about my son’s life.”

“We’re not anything at the moment,” Albert said slowly, still scared that this was a trap,

“He wants you to be though,” Ludo tapped his chin thoughtfully, “I love my son, but he does not love this lifestyle. He doesn’t want to be wrapped up in crime, I understand, so you take care of him. Don’t get caught.” He said, just as Race returned and everyone that wasn’t Albert and Ludo vacated the room. He sat down next to Albert, pulling his chair closer and stretching an arm round on to the back of his chair, putting down their beers with the other on.

“You aren’t scaring him off, are you Papa?” Race said, smiling at his father, buzzed enough to not be tense in his presence,

“No, Antonio, I’m not scaring him,” Ludo replied, pursing his lips to keep a smile back. The resemblance between the two was uncanny when they smiled. Although Race had blonde curls and a slight frame and Ludo had flattened dark hair and took up lots of space with his large body, their facial expressions were almost exactly the same. It told of years spent together and coming to take each other’s habits as their own, instead of just pure genetics, and for the first time a thought about Race’s mother popped into his head. He shook it out, Race hadn’t mentioned anyone else than Medda.

“Antonio, huh?” Albert teased, shoving Race’s shoulder lightly. Race rolled his eyes, albeit a smile playing on his lips,

“Don’t even,” He said, “That’s why my friends call me Race.”

“I don’t know,” Albert said, “I think it’s kind of cute.” He tugged on one of Race’s curls, making him slap Albert’s hand away. Ludo observed them in a warm way that only a father could and cleared his throat, standing up,

“I’m off to talk business. It was nice to meet you Albert, and Antonio, come around again soon, maybe we can teach him to play next time.” He nodded at them, then went through the door and they heard his booming voice on the other side yelling for his associates. They giggled into each other, heads tilting together,

“We should get going,” Race said, not moving from his position and staring at Albert’s face. He licked his lips and his eyes went to Albert’s and back up in a second, face turning red. Albert smirked, cocking his head to the side as Race edged forward. Their lips were a centimetre apart. Almost touching. Race could feel Albert’s breath ghosting over his lips, and he was about to press forward to bring them together when Albert pulled back swiftly, resting a hand on Race’s chest,

“Not in public, Toni,” He said, giving him a shit-eating grin. Groaning, Race dropped his chin to his chest as Albert slid his hand away and stood up, holding his hand out for Race to take when he did the same,

“I’m so close to punching you right now,” He said, attempting to cover his rosy cheeks at the nickname. Albert laughed at him, running a hand through his own hair for once,

“That’s gotta happen behind closed doors too, babe, if you’re into it.” Race glared at him which only made him laugh harder, “C’mon,” He said, “Let’s get you home.”

Race took Albert back to Medda’s apartment, Albert insisting on coming all the way up to the stairs to the door. It wasn’t even that late it being just past ten o’clock, and Race thought about inviting him in. He shocked himself with how much he wanted to, and then remembered that everything about Albert surprised him, and decided to go for it.

“Why don’t you come in for coffee?” He asked, “I’m sure Medda would be happy to meet you.” Albert’s habit of rubbing his hand on the back of his neck reappeared, signifying his nervousness,

“You sure?” He said, “I don’t want to intrude.”

All at once the door swung open and Medda was standing in the doorway with a lime green gown and pearls on, smiling at both of them,

“Don’t be silly, the both of you, come in and have a drink, Albert,” She said, turning around with a wave of her hips, gathering up her dress in her arms. Race couldn’t help a giggle escaping as Albert fell down the step and made a wounded noise when he just blindly smacked an arm backwards and was placated when he heard it connect with Race’s stomach.

Medda moved around the kitchen making coffee and a plate of cookies for them and brought it out on a tray to where they were seated at the table. The windows were thrown wide open to let the cool summer air into the apartment and the sound of the cars permeated up to them, filling the room with gratuitous background noise.

“How was cards?” She asked Race, placing down the tray and getting out her fan to waft her face.

“It was good,” Race said, pulling a small stack of notes out on to the table. He kept the cigars in his pocket, knowing Medda didn’t approve. Albert took a cookie and ate it quietly, feeling more intimidated by Medda than by Ludo,

“And this here is Albert, yes?” She looked at him, taking in his sharp appearance,

“Yes, ma’am,” He replied, straightening his back and lifting his chin. Race squeezed his thigh under the table comfortingly,

“Call me Medda,” She said, “Everyone does. Now what do you do, young man?”

“I work at the docks doing manual labour,” He said, involuntarily looking at Race for reassurance. Race smiled back at him gently, rubbed his palm on his thigh and rested it there.

“You got any other plans apart from that?” She said almost casually, chomping down on her own cookie. He smiled sheepishly,

“I’ve always wanted to be a nurse, but I’ve never had the money for school.” Race almost fell out of his chair, his heart beating out of his chest with softness. Albert as a nurse, caring for people, was a very attractive image. Race couldn’t believe Albert was choosing to spend time with him of all people.

“That’s very admirable of you,” Medda said, obviously impressed. Race felt pride swell within him, that he’d got this handsome boy with dreams of spending his life looking after others, “Why don’t you stay the night, Albert? It’s late and we’d be happy to have you.”

He looked to Race uncertainly, “If it’s okay with Race, I’d love to,” He said and Race beamed at him,

“Of course, you can stay over,” He pulled Albert out of his chair and down the hall into his bedroom, saying good night to Medda as he did so. When they got into Race’s room, Race fell back against the door, just observing him as he got undressed. True to Jack’s word he was indeed muscular, and the inch of height he had over Race made it millions of times better.

“You just gonna stare or are you gonna get in this bed,” Albert said, stripping to his underwear and vest once again, hands on his hips and smiling as Race took his suit off, “You looked incredible in that by the way,” Albert commented from the bed, lying on his side, snuggled in the blankets and watching Race,

“Thank you,” He said through a yawn. He stretched up and down to his toes once before getting in bed. Albert’s arms automatically migrated around his waist, pulling Race’s back to his chest,

“This good?” He asked and Race whispered back in the affirmative, then he promptly fell asleep, steady breathing lulling Race down too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ay im back!! thank u for all the lovely comments, keep em coming. also, subscribe if u want this gay shit straight to ur inbox ;) anyway my twt is [here](https://twitter.com/starrykourts) pls enjoy the bs. im taking mr josh burrage's musical theatre class on friday and i am terrified haha. see u next timeeee
> 
> g


	8. 8. almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> morning after

Race was awoken the next morning by Davey’s laughter, Jack yelping and the clatter of pans as they moved around the kitchen getting ready for work. Their legs were tangled together under the sheets and Albert’s forehead was resting on his shoulder blade, hands loosely entwined with Race’s. He looked so peaceful when he slept, Race thought. Checking the time, Race silently groaned when he realised he needed to get up as well. He threw on some pants and a cardigan that was lying on the armchair in his room and ventured down the hallway into the kitchen, ready to face whatever crap Jack and Davey were about to give him.

A pile of toast was assembled on a rack on the table, one piece in Davey’s hand as he took bites from it between laughing at Jack as he burnt himself making coffee. Race wandered in and got a bowl from the cupboard, putting it on the table and adding some cereal without looking at what it was, then pouring over milk. Davey stopped teasing Jack to look Race over,

“I heard we have a special guest in the house today,” He said, eyes glinting. Jack spun around, abandoning the coffee,

“Albert’s here?” He said incredulously, “Race, you sly dog.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Race protested, “He just slept over because it was late,”

“Yeah, right,” Davey said, “I bet you it was like ten thirty.”

Race scowled and shoved a mouthful of cereal into his mouth, chewing it angrily. Laughing, Davey turned back to Jack and took a tea out of his hand and sat down at the table to have another slice of toast. He got out a book to read while eating and began to flick the pages as he ate the toast, eyes focused intently on the page. Once he’d finished, he stood up and walked over to Jack who was perched on a counter and smoking out the window,

“Bye, darling,” He said, kissing Jack lightly on the cheek, who smiled at him goofily, saying the same back. As he left the kitchen, he ruffled Race’s hair and picked up a briefcase, tilting his hat at them as he shut the front door.

The noise apparently woke up Albert, and Race turned to see him stumbling towards them, bleary eyed and yawning. Locks of red hair were falling into his face and pushed them back, dropping a kiss to the top of Race’s head as he slumped down into the chair next to him,

“Good night sleep?” Race asked, struggling to hold back a smile. Albert grunted, holding up a hand,

“Give me five minutes,” He said, rubbing his hands over his face. Race patted his cheek and went back to his cereal, polishing it off and grabbing a cup of coffee for him and Albert, glaring at Jack as he made kissy faces at him. He set the mug down in front of Albert and sat down on the chair sideways to face him, crossing his legs as he did so. Albert opened his eyes and took a sip, letting the hot liquid run down his throat, he settled into the chair, getting into a more comfortable position.

“I didn’t kick you too much, did I?” He said. His morning voice was hoarse and scratchy, scraping out of his throat by sheer willpower,

“No, you didn’t, actually,” Race replied, drinking his own coffee, “Have you got work?”

Albert pulled Race’s wrist towards him, squinting at the watch on his wrist he’d forgotten to take off last night, “Yeah, it starts at eleven today, guess I’ve got a few hours.” Race hummed in acknowledgment,

“I’ve got my internship in half an hour,” He said, “I’m going to take a shower.” He put his left hand on the table to push himself out of the chair and Albert grabbed it, holding it softly in his palm,

“I’ve never seen you wearing that before,” He said, staring at the ring that sat on his middle finger gleaming in the morning light,

“Yeah, it’s a family thing,” He said, “Italians often have one,”

“Rings look good on your fingers,” Albert said, and Race gulped, retracting his hand back to his side,

“Thank you,” He stuttered out, “I’m going to shower now,”

“You do that, Race,” Albert smiled, knowing exactly what impact he was making on him.

Jack was still sat at the counter watching the scene unfold having stubbed out his cigarette a while ago. The dynamic between the two boys just worked he realised, that they fit together in easy pieces. Albert’s confidence inspiring Race, and Race’s liberty and openness encouraging Albert to do the same. A small smiled played on his lips at their relationship, he and Race were brothers, and seeing his little brother happy was amazing, especially after the months of downcast misery after Thomas left.

“I better get going,” Albert coughed, “See you tomorrow, Jack.”

Jack waved a hand at him as he exited the apartment, lost in thought.

Albert bumped his fist against JoJo and Tommy’s as they smoked outside his apartment when he got back. Tommy noted he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday,

“You got yourself a fella?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. JoJo wrinkled his nose,

“What do you mean ‘fella’,” He said, peering at Albert,

“Albert here was making his way to Brooklyn with a boy last night, just the two of them,” Tommy said, poking JoJo in the chest, “Little Italian man, he was, curls and everything.”

“Race and I aren’t together,” Albert said, and it hurt how true it was. They flirted, they’d almost kissed three times, but there was never a conversation about what they were. They were attracted to each other, sure, but Albert knew in the ball culture that Race was from that didn’t count for much. The only serious couple he knew of was Jack and Davey, he knew Romeo and Elmer got with anyone wherever, and Mush had some more class than the two of them, but still nothing ever serious. He didn’t even know about Finch or Henry, they seemed like loose cannons, drifting around and not committing to anything ever. “We’re just having fun,” He settled on. Tommy shrugged his shoulders,

“Don’t want to tie yourself to a queer like that anyway,” He said, JoJo bumped his elbow and he handed over the cigarette,

“What do you mean a ‘queer like that’,” Albert said sharply,

“Queers in the balls, who do drag and shit, it’s just weird,” He said, exhaling the smoke into the space above his head. He slapped Albert on the bicep, “They’re always trouble.” He tugged at the clothes around JoJo’s waist and they walked off down the street, throwing their smouldering cigarettes into a drain.

Albert decided to ignore Tommy’s comment and shook his head, going up the stairs into his apartment. He went straight to the bathroom to shower, toeing off his shoes in the hallway and padding in, noting that Spot wasn’t home. As he dropped his suit jacket to the floor, he heard a clink of metal on wood. That was strange, he thought, he hadn’t put anything in there last night. He bent down and fished around in the pocket, hand closing around a piece of cold metal. He pulled it out to examine and held it up to the light. It was a ring and it was made of gold, similar to the one Race was wearing last night. A dagger was carved into the outside of it, and the marking glittered even in the dingy bathroom light. Albert put his hand back in the pocket, checking for a note or an explanation to why it was in there. Finding a piece of paper, he pulled it out and unfolded it, reading it quickly.

_Albert,_

_This is a family ring, take it and wear it. Mafiosi will always have your back, and if anyone attempts anything because of your ties to Antonio, you can count on us._

_Ludo._

He smiled and slid the ring onto the same finger Race wore his. Even if he and Race weren’t official, Ludo was confident in them enough to give him a ring signifying his attachment to the mafia. It was weird to think that the mafia had his back now, and he knew he was going to get questions from Spot when he got back, but this was worth it.

Race came back from his internship at half past five, sweat soaking his curls from a day spent in the sun directing steel beams and measuring distances for new buildings. He had a long shower and got dressed, finding Jack on the couch flicking aimlessly through a newspaper, radio on in the background.

“Oh good,” He said, “You’re back.” He patted the space next to him, indicating to Race he wanted to him to sit down. Race dropped onto the couch, eyeing Jack suspiciously,

“What do you want?” He said, observing Jack’s slightly crazed smile,

“You want to tell me when you and Albert got together?” He asked and Race rolled his eyes,

“We aren’t together,” Race said, and Jack coughed, sputtering,

“Sorry what,” He said, “But he stayed the night in your bed?”

“I mean, we haven’t got a label or whatever,”

“You’re so dumb, holy fuck,” Jack said, and Race kicked his shin,

“It just hasn’t been a conversation we’ve had.” He explained. Jack shook his head and then rolled his eyes,

“How many times have you kissed?”

“We haven’t kissed,” Race mumbled, looking down,

“What was that?” Jack asked, disbelieving,

“We haven’t kissed yet!” Race yelled and winced, “We’ve almost kissed like three times, but one of us always pulls away,” Race whined, sticking his bottom lip out at Jack, who was laughing,

“Oh my god,” He said, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I want to,” Race argued, “I just have this thing about being in public and then he turned that on me last night.”

“Wow, that is cold,” Jack agreed, and Race hit him, laughter infecting him as well. He and Albert really were in a predicament,

“My father gave him a Mafiosi ring,” Race said and Jack raised a singular eyebrow, slurping a glass of wine with his eyes wide open and Race slapped his arm, laughing, “At least no one’s going to murder him from my family now.”

“The other mafias and the Irish mob aren’t going to hold back though,” Jack said, smiling and Race rolled his eyes,

“Nothing’s going to happen to him.” He said, confident as he was that the sun would rise in the morning and Jack shrugged, giving Race his wine to sip.

*

Albert arrived home to his apartment around nine thirty, the balmy air meant he didn’t have to put on a jacket, and his biceps were on show because of the vest he was wearing as he walked in. Spot was sitting on the couch nursing a beer and reading a magazine, knowing him, it was probably about machines. Albert preferred the trashy Hollywood ones, reading all about Charlie Chaplain’s latest scandals. He changed out of his work clothes and came back into the lounge to take up the space next to Spot, leaning over to leave his water glass on the table, the gold ring on his finger glinting as he did so. It caught Spot’s eye and he snatched Albert’s hand in his own, holding it up to his face,

“Where did you get this,” He said hotly, glaring at Albert. He gulped,

“Race’s dad gave it to me,” He sunk back into the couch, shrinking in on himself to make himself smaller,

“Albert you can’t wear this out,” Spot said, and he sounded close to begging. That startled Albert, Spot never begged, Spot asked, and Spot got.

“I can wear what I want, Spot,” He said, temper rising. He pulled his hand out of Spot’s grasp, “Maybe stop policing my life for once.” He stood up and stomped across the room, ignoring Spot yelling at him and slamming his door. Spot sighed and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing circles into his temples. This couldn’t end well for either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo its heating up. this needed some more javey so here it is. love u all so much, please keep commenting!! it's really helping. im on a social media detox until friday at least, so you might see more frequent updates. stay safe, stay home and save lives <3


	9. 9. finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure: elmer is an idiot, but hes MY idiot.

Albert got ready for the ball alone in his bedroom, piecing together a semi-indecent outfit similar to the ones he had seen the others wearing. A palette of gold glitter lay open on his mantel piece, flirting with him by flashing in the soft light from his lamp. He’d bought it under the guise of a girlfriend at a shop the day before in a moment of boldness, but now he was feeling significantly weaker, and was debating whether he should put it on or not. The gold ring was firmly on his finger, still, and he slid it up and down, looking at himself. He wanted to put on the glitter. He just didn’t know if he was brave enough to do it. He thought about Davey who’d be up there tonight in full drag, dressed completely as a woman, putting on a voice to make others laugh and talking in a slang language Albert hadn’t picked up yet. Davey would want him to wear it. Davey would be ecstatic to see him wearing it. So, he picked up the palette and dipped his finger in, coating it in glitter and rubbing it onto his eyelids. By the time he was finished, it nowhere near as good as Davey’s did, but it made him feel special, and that was enough.

He kept his head down on the subway to stop people looking at him and hurried to Hamilton Lodge to cut down his exposure to people who weren’t as friendly to this kind of stuff as they should be. The door was opened for him by a gorgeous bouncer and he walked in, immediately making his way to the bar where Mush and Romeo were serving drinks. He hopped onto a stool and grinned at them,

“Evening fellas,” He said and they both squealed, Romeo rushing over to get a closer look,

“Oh my God!” He yelled, “You look amazing!” Mush nodded approvingly. He was in a white short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned more than any respectable man would and grey suspenders holding up tight-fitting sky-blue slacks. The gold glitter accentuated the gold flecks in his eyes and made the tone of his red hair shine.

“Race is going to lose his mind,” Mush agreed, pouring a vodka shot for Albert who downed it quickly, burning as it went down his throat. Jack clapped him on the back, jumping onto the stool next to him,

“Love the glitter, Al,” He said and smacked five dollars on the bar, “The usual for Dave.” He said and Romeo took the money and gave him a thumbs up, mixing a yellow-orange cocktail, “Race is just coming, he was having a breakdown over his hair or something.” He tilted his hat at them and picked up Davey’s cocktail, disappearing into the crowd. Albert exchanged meaningless chatter with Mush and Romeo until Race arrived, throwing a few good-natured insults at Romeo like the rest of the group did, which was met with a laugh and a punch. He felt thoroughly inducted into them, which wasn’t something he could’ve fathomed having three weeks ago.

Race’s mouth went dry just seeing Albert from the back, leaning on the bar and joking around with Mush and Romeo. He clearly was wearing something more revealing than he usually would, and tighter than he usually would which was doing all kinds of things to Race. Mush tapped Albert on the shoulder motioning towards Race and he turned around, smiling lighting up his face as he made eye-contact with him. He was wearing glitter, Race realised, and holy shit, that was hot. He scrambled towards them,

“Hey,” He said to Albert breathlessly, “You look stunning.” He brought a hand up to card through the back of Albert’s hair, taking in every detail of what he was wearing.

“Once you’ve finished your full body scan of Albert, would you like a drink Race?” Mush asked sweetly, even adding a sugary smile. Race smacked him over the bar,

“No, thank-you,” He said and dragged Albert off the chair and onto the dance floor to meet Finch, Henry and Elmer. They danced in the group for a bit, jumping around until they saw Davey coming on stage. He was dressed head to toe in a red satin dress with spaghetti straps, any indication that he was a man tucked away cleanly, and black lace gloves covered his hands and forearms. He glided on to the stage elegantly in heels that Albert were sure would break his legs if he tried to walk in. The entire crowd went crazy as he turned and dropped to the floor, picking it up smoothly and continuing his sauntering around the stage. They all hollered at him along with the rest of the room, Elmer snapped his fingers in the air,

“That’s realness, bitch,” He yelled over the hubbub making the rest of them laugh. Davey did one last twirl and blew a kiss, then exited the stage as adoring fans threw any old possession onto the stage. The emcee came on to the stage, holding a microphone,

“You can see Miss Rae next week at the masquerade ball.” He shouted and the crowd went wild at the mention of the notorious masquerade ball. Race, Elmer, Finch and Henry were screaming as well, waving their arms in the air like madmen,

“What’s the masquerade ball?” Albert grabbed Race by the collar and leaned in to yell in his ear over the noise. Race smiled at him,

“It’s the biggest ball of the year, everyone dresses up and disguises themselves. People come from Chicago to go to it, it’s massive.” He replied and Albert wondered how he’d lived most of his life in New York and never known about it.

“That sounds cool,” He yelled back, and Race nodded, squeezing his waist. The emcee motioned for quiet and the crowd calmed down slightly, he held the microphone up to his mouth,

“Now a slow song for all the lovers out there,” He said and a singer in the band on stage started singing the first words of a Charles Ferrell, “And if you don’t have a lover, grab any person near you, man or woman!” The emcee continued, then scurried of the stage. Race turned to Albert,

“You gonna put your arms on my waist or what?” He said, shifting closer to Albert, placing his hands over Albert’s shoulders and gripping them tightly. Albert took a step forward, almost pressing their bodies together, and slid his arms around Race’s waist, beginning to sway them side to side. They moved in time to the music, narrowly avoiding colliding with other couples multiple times. In the low light the glitter on Albert’s face twinkled, enhancing his beauty even more than Race thought was possible.

“You’re beautiful,” Race said to him, lifting his left hand up to touch the side of Albert’s face, swiping a hand along his cheek bone. Albert furrowed his eyebrows,

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” He said, and Race was struck with the facts that Albert had had people with him before and that all of them had neglected to tell him this vital thing.

“They should’ve,” Race said, “I’ve never seen anyone like you in my life.” The song came to an end and the raving music started up again, but they stayed in the same position. Albert leaned forward and put his forehead on Race’s.

“Wanna get out of here?” He whispered, and Race nodded, giddy with the knowledge that he was finally going to have Albert alone.

“I know where we can go,” He said, taking Albert’s hand and leading him through the crowd, up the stairs to the balcony and along, stopping at a door to what seemed to be a small cubicle. It had a bench and a mirror inside and was unlocked, the door swinging open when Race pushed it. “We call these the petting rooms.” He said, winking at Albert cheekily. He pulled him in by his collar but didn’t press their lips together. Albert kicked the door shut behind him. They stood chest to chest, breathing each other in, analysing each other’s facial features. Race’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Albert exhaled shakily, putting his hand on the side of Race’s neck and bringing their lips together.

Neither of them moved for a moment, and then Race shot his hand into Albert’s hair and tilted his head, allowing Albert to kiss him how he wanted. Their mouths slid together, and it ignited a growling fire in Albert’s gut, needing to be closer to Race instantly. He backed him against the wall, fisting his shirt in his hands, emitting small noises when Race tugged on his hair as he bit down on his neck leaving marks that would be extremely visible in the morning. Their bodies ebbed and flowed around each other, pushing and pulling, twisting to get as close as possible. Soon, they calmed, their kisses becoming gentler and fading to nothing, both of them aware that they were barely over the threshold of ‘not in public’. Race rested his fists on Albert’s chest, breathing heavily with is head pointed to the floor, and Albert had his face buried in Race’s shoulder, his chest strained with how fast his heart was beating.

“I can’t believe it took us so long to do that,” Race said, “Where the fuck did you learn to kiss like that? That cannot be your first time kissing a boy.”

Albert laughed shakily into his neck, “Definitely my first time kissing a boy,” He said, and Race could feel him grinning. He dropped his head back on to the wall,

“I’m going to need a minute,” Race puffed, gently carding a hand through Albert’s hair where he stayed tucked into Race’s body. Albert hummed in response. “You are not falling asleep on me, are you?”

“Nope,” Albert said sleepily, lifting his head from Race’s neck, eyes drooping, “Definitely not doing that.” Race laughed at him and pressed a kiss to his lips just because he could,

“Let’s go get you a coke or something,” He said and caught Albert staring at him, “What?” He asked worriedly,

“Oh my God, Race, it looks like we just fucked,” He pointed out Race’s ragged curls and bunched up shirt, hickeys along trailing down his neck and cheeks red. Albert was no better, his hair was everywhere and sweat tinged his skin, small bite marks obvious on his jaw. Race spun around to look at himself in the mirror and groaned,

“We’re never going to live this down,” He said, horrified, trying to fix his hair. He heard a signature giggle come from behind him, “If you’re laughing right now, I’m breaking up with you.” The laughter immediately ceased,

“Wait Race, are we together?” Albert asked, moving into his view in the mirror, mouth hanging open,

“We are now, babe,” He said, grabbing his jaw in his hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek. All that came out of Albert’s mouth was,

“Happy anniversary,” which made Race laugh,

“Happy anniversary,” He agreed, huffing as he couldn’t get his hair to look somewhat presentable, “C’mon,” He said, “Let’s go face the others.”

They stumbled out of the cubicle and down the stairs across the dance floor, holding hands with massive grins on their faces. The group was sitting and the bar and whooped and wolf whistled as they came towards them,

“Oh, Racey boy got some hot ass tonight!” Elmer shouted, which earned him a slap from Mush. Jack had a hand around Davey’s waist,

“You two official now?” He asked, taking in the untidy state of both of them. Albert looked down to Race and shrugged, putting two hands on his cheeks and kissing Race square on the mouth, lingering there as the group cheered. Race looked slightly dazed when he pulled back,

“So, Race, have you asked him to the ball?” Romeo said, from behind the bar, leaning forward on his forearms.

“Yeah, Race,” Albert said, glaring, “Have you asked me to the ball?”

The group made scandalised noises, holding their hands to their mouths as Race managed to turn a shade darker red than he was before,

“Albert, my beautiful boyfriend, would you do me the biggest honour, and be my date to the ball,” He asked, getting down on one knee. He gave Albert the most tender puppy eyes he could, holding his hands together in a way that implied begging. Albert paused, pretending to think for a moment, holding up a finger to his lip in contemplation,

“I guess I’ll have to say yes,” He said, smile breaking through. Race jumped up into his arms to kiss him again, lips sliding together in front of all their friends.

“Alright, alright,” Mush yelled over the disgusted noises the group was making, “That’s enough.”

Race held up the middle finger at him, but removed his lips from Albert’s, squeezing his shoulders. When Albert smiled at him, his knees turned to jelly and the floor rolled beneath him,

“I’m so happy,” He said, nuzzling into Albert. The light caught Albert’s ring and it shone into Race’s eyes, “You’re wearing the family ring?” He gasped, looking up at Albert.

“Yeah, I am,” Albert grinned, “Reminds me of you.” He ducked down and pressed a chaste kiss to Race’s lips, pulling him up the bar with the others, ignoring the astonished look on Race’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OIOIOIOIOI i know i said i would drop the chapters more but then i signed up for class with josh and couldnt think about anything else for a few days. spoiler alert: he's the best and so sweet. love that guy. see u all again soon, drop a comment to keep ur girl healthy ;)


	10. 10. fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of the end

That night, for once, they went their separate ways with a peck and a promise to arrange a date in the future. Race flopped back onto his bed, giggling to himself thinking of the kiss they’d shared. He could still feel Albert’s hands on his body, sliding from his waist to his hips and from his neck into his hair, tugging it to make Race whine. He was an incredible kisser, Race felt overwhelmed with heat just thinking of it. He stripped to his nightwear and bunched the covers in his hands, feeling like he was lacking someone to cuddle.

Albert was not faring any better. He’d come into the apartment unable to keep a grin off his face, first entering the bathroom to clean the glitter off his eyes and then into the lounge where Spot was in his usual place, dozing while listening to the radio. He jumped when he heard Albert’s footsteps behind him and snapped his neck to look at him,

“You look happy,” He remarked, rubbing his eyes. Albert smiled impossibly larger,

“Race and I are together now,” He said, shrugging. Spot groaned and stood up, coming to hug Albert and release him quickly,

“I don’t approve, but I’m happy for you,” He said, “Don’t get caught.”

“We aren’t going to get caught,” Albert replied, squeezing Spot’s shoulder in a silent comforting gesture. Spot nodded at him, “I’m going to bed.”

“Good night,” Spot said, “I got business to take care of, see you tomorrow.”

“See you, Spot,” Albert yawned, going into his bedroom and shutting the door gently behind him. Spot slapped his face to wake him up, blinking a couple of times and flexing his arms. He strode across the room and took his coat off the hook, it was a dark army green, and threw it around his shoulders, took one last look at the apartment, and slid out the door, locking it behind him. He ran down the stairs two steps at a time and out onto the street towards the docks. He glanced behind him, checking he wasn’t being followed, and pulled his coat tighter around his small body. The wind had picked up tonight and clouds had slid over the city, casting shadows that jumped up and leapt at Spot as he moved. The sky was tar black and the air bit at his legs. He hurried on faster.

The docks were dark and motionless, no sound to be heard and no movement to be seen. The only light was a small electric bulb that had been left on in an office, and it threw eerie shapes onto the ground as it cut around buildings. Spot skirted in between two foremen’s offices, keeping into the gloom. The ships rose out of their docks to loom above him, their angular hulls cutting forward over his head. He reached a small jetty where a barge was moored, there were black blinds covering the windows, but light still poked out from the sides of them. There was a man stood on the jetty and he nodded at Spot as he went past towards where the entrance to the barge was. He climbed in, almost slipping into the murky waters below him.

The barge was bustling with activity. Crates of wine bottles were being carried through, two men to a box, and stacked in a back room. Spot pressed himself to a wall as they came past and moved into a central area where a few men were sitting around a bench that came off the wall at the end of the bar. Two were old, one was young. They wore clothes stained with dirt and sipped at whisky out of plastic glasses. One of the old men looked up as he came in,

“Sean, good to see you,” He said and pointed to the bench, “Sit.”

Spot did as he was told and sat down next to the younger man. His red hair was reminiscent of Albert’s in that it was a few shades lighter, more of a ginger than a red like Albert’s was. He offered Spot whisky which he politely declined.

“So, you’ve got something to tell us, boy,” The old man said, harsh Irish accent grinding in his throat as he talked. Spot looked unsure and then nodded, eyes darting to the young man next to him,

“Luciano mafia got a new boy,” He said, “Ludo’s son’s new toy, he’s Irish.”

The old man stilled and sighed, “Which son?”

“Antonio,” Spot said, “Goes by Race Higgins.”

The old man hummed and lit a cigarette, opening a window to let out the smoke. The barge bobbed up and down lightly on the small waves in the harbour. Spot desperately hoped this decision wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass, he owed these guys, and he always would. It wasn’t good to have enemies in prison, he’d found out soon enough, and under the protection of the Irish mob he was virtually untouchable for his entire 3 years he spent there.

“This boy of Antonio’s, if something happened to him, the Mafiosi would retaliate?” The old man asked, and Spot nodded,

“They gave him a family ring,” He said, “A nice one, too.”

“What’s this boy’s name?”

Spot felt sick at what he was going to do next, “Albert, Albert DaSilva.” He breathed shakily, feeling his heart rate pick up and his stomach twist into knots. The old man took a drag of the cigar and let the smoke curl around his face,

“We’ll see what we can do,” He said, “Thank you, Spot, you may leave.”

“Of course, sir,” He said and stood up, nodding at the three of them and rushing out of the barge and hurrying up the jetty away from the harbour. He doubled over, struggling to breathe and clutching his stomach. Tears formed in his eyes and dropped to the floor as the crashed backwards against a wall and slid down it to the floor. He curled in on himself, sobbing as rough breaths tore out of his lungs. He laid like that for what felt like hours but could’ve been minutes, gravel of the docks indenting his cheek. Eventually, he managed to calm himself down and stood up, legs like a new-born deer’s underneath him, wobbling as he walked back home. The late-night partygoers gave him a wide berth as they clung to each other, laughing and joking, avoiding his obviously ill looking form. By some miracle he made it back to the apartment and shrugged his coat off onto the floor and stumbled into his bedroom and down onto the bed. Passing out where he was, fully dressed.

*

Albert went over to Race’s on Monday at six o’clock when he knew Race would be home from his internship or have finished classes and would be relaxing. He’d come straight from work, and looked so, apart from having combed his hair quickly at his apartment. Knocking on the door, it was answered in moments by Race, smiling as he realised it was Albert,

“Hey,” He said and leaned forward to kiss him, because he could do that when he wanted now,

“Hey,” Albert parroted, “I thought we could arrange a date?”

Race laughed, “Come in, you imbecile, of course we can arrange a date.”

Albert came in, decidedly not tripping on the step, and hung his newsboy cap on a hook. Race intertwined their hands and led him to the lounge, pushing him onto the couch and sitting down on the other end, stretching his legs out to rest his feet in Albert’s lap. Albert’s hands started to massage circles into the soles of them mindlessly,

“I have an idea,” He said, “But I’m not sure if you’ll like it.”

“Hit me,” Race said, and Albert smiled at him, unsure,

“Do you want to go play some tennis, and maybe a drink after, on Wednesday? I’ve got a membership at a place near here, we can have the court for an hour, you can say no,” Albert said, pressing hard into Race’s foot when he felt a knot. Race inhaled sharply and pulled his foot back reflexively. Albert giggled, “Just let me get the knot out, babe,”

“It hurts,” Race whined,

“It don’t work if it doesn’t hurt,” Albert pointed out and Race scowled at him,

“I’m ignoring that,” He said, “In favour of discussing our date. Albert, I would love to play some tennis with you, I do, though, have to warn you that I am awful at all sport.”

Albert smirked, “I bet I can teach you,” He said, sliding a hand to Race’s ankle and up his calf to the back of his knee, then yanking and pulling Race almost into his lap. Race squeezed his lower thigh,

“I really don’t think you can,” He said, leaning forward into Albert’s space, t-shirt falling slightly to the side and showing the olive skin of his shoulder. Albert inhaled shakily,

“You underestimate me,” He said and put his hand on the back of Race’s neck, pulling him down to crash their lips together. Albert slid further down the couch, pulling Race fully on top of him, and trapping him there with a leg over Race’s. Race was clearly leading their kiss this time, shoving Albert’s chest back down when he attempted to rise up to meet Race as he leaned back for a moment,

“Stay,” Race hissed and snaked his hands up his chest, Albert nodded and let his head fall back. And that was a foolish move because Race immediately took the opportunity to kiss his neck, stilling when Albert squeaked when he kissed a certain spot. Albert held his breath for a moment, eyes shut, then felt Race’s teeth graze that exact spot. His breath caught in his throat as Race did it again, he looked down to see Race staring at him intently, blue eyes clouded with lust.

“Bedroom?” Albert asked,

“Bedroom.” Race agreed, fisting Albert’s shirt and pulling him up, both of them stumbling into Race’s room, giggling as Albert tripped at the force of Race’s tugging.

They awoke in the morning tangled in each other, Race’s curls in Albert’s mouth and Albert’s legs entwined with Race’s. Albert drew circles over Race’s biceps with his finger, listening to Race’s soft breathing as he slept. He thought about the weeks they’d shared, how far Albert had come into acceptance, how Race’s world was slipping into his. The glitter in his apartment and Albert’s vests that had migrated into Race’s drawers and his specific coffee mug in the kitchen that Medda had gifted him. It shocked him how domestic they’d become in such a short space of time,

“I can hear you thinking in my sleep,” Race whispered, eyes fluttering open, sparkling with mischief. He reached out a hand to brush along Albert’s cheek, “What’s going on?”

“Just thinking about us,” Albert said, “How lucky I am.”

“Sex makes you delirious, nice to know,” Race replied, and Albert huffed,

“I’m serious, you’re amazing,” He said, “I wish you could see you from my perspective.” Race wrinkled his nose,

“I’m agreeing to disagree right now,” He said, and then his stomach growled, making Albert descend into fits of laughter. Race rolled his eyes, “Shut up, I’m hungry.”

Albert wiped his eyes, “Let’s get up, then,” He said, fighting with Race as they struggled to untangle their limbs. He ended up in a heap on the floor, laughing as Race trudged around the edge of the bed to haul him up. He held Albert’s hand in his and left the room, Albert stumbling behind to catch up with him. Jack gave them a slow applause as they walked past him sat at the table, and they paused momentarily for Race to get a cushion from the couch and throw it at his head. He didn’t look too wounded.

Medda was in the kitchen wearing a lilac silk dressing gown, humming to a song as she spun around making breakfast. There was bacon and eggs and toast and coffee, Race opened her mouth to ask why there was so much food and she shushed him,

“It’s a celebration,” She said, holding a finger up at him to keep him quiet, “To welcome Albert to the family.” Race groaned and wiped a hand down his face, “What? Did you not do what I think you did last night?”

“Mama, can we just not?” He said, glaring at Albert as he began to laugh,

“It’s fine, Race,” He said, pressing a kiss to his temple, “I’m just happy we get to eat all this.” Race grumbled but sat down, rapidly loading his plate with food and taking it back through the arch to the table where Jack was seated. He grinned at Race wolfishly, and leaned over,

“How was it?” He said quietly, Race shoved his face away, he looked to Albert, joking with Medda and pouring himself coffee,

“I’m not discussing this with him in the next room,”

“He was good though, right?”

“No comment.” He said and winked at Jack as Albert laid a hand on his shoulder and slid into the chair next to him,

“What are we talking about?” He said and Jack stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth, Race smiled gently,

“Nothing you need to be concerned about,” He ruffled Albert’s hair and took a sip from his coffee. They ignored Jack pretending to gag opposite. Medda came in a few minutes later and took two slices of toast and slathered them in jam,

“I hope you’ll be around more often, Albert.” She said, pushing a pin into her hair. Albert nodded, quickly swallowing a mouthful of egg,

“Of course,” He said, “I might steal Race away a bit more as well.” He hooked his foot around Race’s under the table, making him laugh,

“That’s perfectly fine by me,” Jack piped up and Medda sighed, shaking her head. Race and Jack divulged into a quarrel over who was more annoying for the next ten minutes while Albert and Medda traded tired looks across the table.

“I’ve got to get to work,” Albert interrupted, having had enough, and stood up, “Do you mind if I shower?” Race looked up to him and a smug smile spread across his face,

“I’ll show you where it is,” He said, beckoning for Albert to follow him as he trotted down the hall. Albert waved goodbye to Jack and Medda as they exchanged a knowing glance and was pulled into the bathroom with a yelp by Race.

Albert left half an hour later, pressing a soft kiss to Race’s lips, his pale skin tinged with red from the heat of the shower. Race watched him take off down the street from the window, laughing to himself as Albert narrowly avoided a man with a trolley full of newspapers. Jack coughed from the couch,

“So, how was he?” He asked, and Race realised how much the ball culture revolved around sex, and how they associated sex with worth. It struck him that Albert had changed that value for him, that having Albert was never about the sex, it was about him as a person and that if they could never have sex again he’d be just as happy as he is now.

“Really good,” Race said contemplatively, “When you first got with Davey, what was it about for you?”

Jack hummed, pausing to think, “I guess it was being with the David Jacobs first, that was why I made friends with him, but I asked him out because he was so special that I couldn’t let him slip out of my hands. You know Davey, he’s one in a million, there’s never going to be a person like that in my life ever again. I love him.” He said, and Race leaned back on the window, lost in thought, “Do you love Albert, Race?” Jack tried gently and Race smiled,

“I think I do,” He said, thinking through all of their memories together. The first meeting, the first dance, sleeping at Albert’s, Albert sleeping at Race’s, their first kiss, their first time together, all the near kisses and hand holding and flirting. Yeah, Race decided, he loved Albert.

Albert was sure something had happened to Spot, but whenever he asked about it, he clammed up, refusing to talk or even look him in the eyes. By Tuesday night, Albert was fed up and ready to do something drastic to get him to talk. He picked them up dinner from a pizza place near their apartment and got ready for Spot to come back from work and hopefully interrogate him. Albert was relying on this to work, because if it didn’t, he had no clue what would.

“Why do I feel like I’m looking at my death,” Spot said when he got back, throwing his keys onto the coffee table. He still had dark bags under his eyes, and his usually groomed hair was messy and uncombed. The way he moved was skittish too, like if Albert flinched, he would jump five feet into the air,

“We’re going to talk,” Albert said, “About why you’ve been acting weird.” Spot sighed, and put his hands on his hips, dropping his chin to his chest and then looking back up to Albert,

“I haven’t been acting weird.”

“Yes, you have,” Albert pointed to a chair at their dining table, “Sit.” Begrudgingly, Spot sat down on the chair, folding his arms over his chest as he did so. Albert followed on a chair opposite him, “I bought a pizza, but we’re only eating it if you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong, Albert,” Spot said harshly. Albert tapped his fingers on the table,

“Is the mob after you again?” He asked and Spot froze, “You can tell me if they’re going after you, Spot, I don’t mind if they are.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” He said, making a move to leave. Albert grabbed his wrist and forced him back down,

“Who are you worried about then?” Albert said, “I just want to help, Spot, please.”

“Albert you can’t help me,” Spot yelled, and Albert’s calm demeanour flicked to fear for a millisecond, “They’re going to do something I can’t help, and it’s going to be my fault.” Albert reached over to him slowly to squeeze his hand, watching Spot’s breathing quicken rapidly,

“Spot, hey, just calm down a moment, okay?” He said, attempting to be gentle but Spot was hyperventilating and fisting his hair and Albert could hear his breaths coming out short and sharp. Spot just shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and Albert could see him becoming less and less comprehendible by the minute, “Damn it.” He whispered to himself, then addressed Spot, “I’m taking you to Medda’s,” He said, not sure if Spot could hear him, “She’s nice, and knows how to help.” At least, Albert guessed she did, he’d heard some of Race’s story and knew none of Jack’s, but neither could be too nice to warrant getting adopted.

They made it there in record time with Albert supporting Spot as he walked through the crowds in the Bowery, most people giving them a wide berth at the sight of Spot’s sick look. It took them some more time to get up the stairs, but they made it eventually, Albert reassuring Spot as he knocked on their apartment door. Jack opened it, and took one look at Albert and Spot and started shouting for Medda, ushering the two of them in and putting his arm around the other side Spot’s waist,

“What happened?” He asked, helping Spot down onto the couch,

“I asked him about why he’s been acting strange recently, he started yelling and next thing I know he can’t breathe,” Albert replied, squeezing Spot’s shoulder when he moaned, “Is Race in?” Jack shook his head,

“He went out a few hours ago to the library to study,” He said. Medda appeared from the doorway, took one look at Spot and instructed Jack to get him a bottle of water. She spoke to Spot in a soft voice, coaching his breathing back to normal and handing him the bottle of water when he asked for one. His hands shook, but he managed to drink some, a few droplets slipping down his chin. Albert hovered to the side, analysing everything Medda was doing in case he had to deal with this sort of Spot again.

“Feeling better, kid?” She asked and he nodded, squinting at Jack as he looked around the room,

“Do I know you?” He said and Jack laughed nervously,

“We were newsies together, though that was over ten years ago now,” He said, and Spot’s features contorted as he scrunched up his face, trying to remember,

“Francis Sullivan?” He questioned. Jack’s face darkened minutely,

“I go by Jack Kelly now,” He gritted out and Spot shrugged,

“Good to know you’re not dead,” He said, and Albert felt relief that the snarky, unbothered Spot he knew was back.

“We should probably be getting back before it gets too dark,” Albert said, filling the silence that had fallen between them, “Tell Race hi for me.” He looked at Jack and he nodded back, eyes misty. Spot got up off the coach, thanked Medda and walked out of the apartment, Albert following after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayo here's another. im about to spice things up a bit so hehehe... watch out. thank you for all your lovely comments i read and treasure every single on, and keep em coming!!


	11. 11. date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they finally go on that first date

Albert picked up his tennis racket, the handle was black from use and the strings were held in place by sheer will power at this point and made his way out of the apartment. He was wearing the smallest tennis shorts he could find and a light green t-shirt that made his eyes even more intense than usual, his wallet and keys were in his hands and he had no bag, betting on the fact that Race would have one. The butterflies in his stomach were flapping actively, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, more like anticipation for what was about to happen. He was confident this would go well, nothing with Race had ever been uncomfortable and he doubted it ever would be.

He left the apartment with a skip, hopping down the stairs and out the door, waving to JoJo and Tommy in their normal spot outside the building. The journey felt torturously long, waiting to get to Race’s and see him again. He jogged most of the way there, arriving at Race’s door rosy cheeked with a smile on his face. He rapped on the door and it opened, Race standing there in his own extremely tight shorts and blue t-shirt, curls held off his face by a head band,

“Don’t we look like a couple of queers?” He said, grinning. Albert rolled his eyes and pulled him out of the apartment by the collar of his top,

“Don’t expect him back tonight,” He called to whoever was in the apartment and Race choked, slamming the door shut,

“I can’t believe I let you say stuff like that,” He said, shoving Albert’s shoulder as they raced down the stairs side by side and out into the street. He stopped, “Which way are we going?” Albert grinned, and took his hand,

“This way,” He said and tugged them to the right, avoiding the people coming towards them. They walked for about ten minutes before stopping at a building labelled ‘sports centre’, the afternoon sun beating down on them. Race wrinkled his nose and Albert laughed, “C’mon,” He said, “It’s not going to be that bad.”

“I think you underestimate my ability to be bad at something,” Race said. Albert ignored him and walked forward into the building, strolling up to a man at the desk,

“Afternoon, Ike,” He said, leaning forward, lazy smirk on his face, “Tennis court for an hour, if you please.” Ike nodded and rung it up on the register,

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Al, you got something keeping you busy?” His eyes swept over Race’s body appreciatively. Albert just laughed,

“Something like that,” He said, sliding over ten dollars

“Court eight is free,” Ike said, “See you soon, Albert,”

“See you, Ike,” He replied and led Race out of the building into the sun towards the courts. They walked past a group of teenagers playing basketball, yelling and laughing, insulting each other and getting too physical than they would be allowed to in a real game.

“That’s why I don’t do sport,” Race said, pointing them out to Albert.

“I used to play basketball in high school,” He said, “I still play with those guys sometimes. It’s fun once you get into it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Race said. They got to court eight and Albert pulled an innumerable number of tennis balls out of his shorts onto the floor while Race gawked and made his way to the other side of the net.

“We won’t do any scoring for now, we can just rally back and forth until you get the hang of it,” Albert said, and Race nodded. He threw the ball into the air and hit it to Race, making sure it landed perfectly for Race to hit. Race managed to hit it, but made Albert sprint for it, his strong arms swinging on his backhand to hit it back. They did this a few times before Race realised how to angle the ball and eventually got it to go where he wanted, taking great delight in making Albert run around the court.

“You good there, Albie?” He asked cheekily as Albert doubled over, panting. Albert raised his middle finger at him, making him laugh, soft tinkling filling the court.

“I think we can play a proper game now,” Albert said. They played the game, both coming close to winning many times before Race started flagging, not as fit as Albert was, so they agreed that the next point would win. It was a furious battle as Albert unleashed all the power, he had from working down at the docks and Race played back with sneaky tactics and drop shots. They valiantly rallied for another fifteen minutes before Race misjudged a swing and the ball dropped to the floor, giving Albert the point,

“Yes!” He screamed, punching the air as Race fell to the floor groaning,

“I’m never doing sport again, I think I’m going to die,” He said while Albert chanted ‘I won’ over and over again. He came over to Race’s side of the court and squatted, giving him a hand to sit up,

“Good game,” He said, winking at him. Race slapped him with the tennis racket, sitting up. The sun was dipping below the buildings, making the court drip in honey-coloured light, it emphasised the freckles spattering over Race’s tanned skin and Albert’s breath caught in his throat at how beautiful this man was,

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Race said, eyeing him suspiciously. Albert swallowed, squashing the thoughts of how close this was getting to love down, and shook his head,

“No, you look beautiful,” He said and Race blushed, ducking his head. Albert smiled, “Let’s go get a drink.”

“That sounds good,” Race replied softly, taking Albert’s hand again to stand up, pulling him slightly off balance to get a squawk out of him. He growled at Race and Race just squeezed his hip, laying his head on his shoulder as they walked forward. They changed into comfortable clothes because yes, Race had brought a bag with clothes in for both of them and set off out of the centre.

Albert took him to an Irish speakeasy fifteen minutes from the tennis courts that was bustling with people dancing and singing. A live band was taking requests on a make-up stage at one end and alcohol was being sneakily dispensed at the other end for an extortionate amount of money. As soon as they walked in, a group of people hollered at Albert, who ran a hand down his back, pressing a ten dollar note into his hand and telling him to get them both drinks. He went over to the group, enveloping them all in hugs, laughing at them as they flew through a conversation that Race couldn’t hear. He was standing close to a girl, though, and her eyes kept sweeping over his face and toned body and it was making jealousy and possessiveness flicker in his stomach. A bar tender slid a couple of beers towards him,

“You here with Albert?” He asked and Race nodded,

“Yeah, I’m Race,” He said and stretched a hand over the bar to shake the man’s hand,

“I’m Matthew, you can call me Sniper,” He took the ten dollars off the bar and handed the change back to Race,

“Hey, um, do you know who that girl is next to Albert, by any chance?” He said, eyes fixed on the group. Sniper looked at them, tilting his head, and then smiled,

“You’re with Albert like that, are you?” He replied, grinning. Race momentarily panicked,

“I mean not like that like that-,”

“Race, it’s cool here,” Sniper assured him, “That’s Ciara, they’ve got history,” Sniper shrugged, “This is an Irish pub, you’ve either got history or they’re your cousin.” Race nodded and sipped his drink.

Ciara slid a hand on to Albert’s lower back and he visibly froze, the touch just felt wrong. He was used to Race’s masculine hands gripping and shoving, not featherlight touches from smooth feminine hands. Race saw him tense up immediately and huffed, picking up their drinks and making his way over to the group. No one was allowed to make his boyfriend feel uncomfortable. He tapped Albert on the shoulder, sending a smarmy smile to Ciara who snatched her hand back, and gave the beer to Albert when he turned around,

“Are you gonna introduce me to your friends, Al?” He asked sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes. Albert sipped his beer and slid a hand onto Race’s waist,

“This is Race, my boyfriend.” He said, Race feeling satisfied as Ciara recoiled,

“I thought you liked women, Albert,” She said tightly. Albert shrugged, holding back a smirk,

“Guess I like whoever comes around,” He said, pressing a kiss to Race’s cheek. Race snuggled closer, reaching an arm down to grip Albert’s hip,

“Fair enough, I get that.” One of the men in the group said, glaring at Ciara,

“Thank you, Teddy,” Albert said, sending him a knowing look. At that moment, the band started playing an upbeat Irish tune and the group burst into appreciative shouts, some of them heading onto the dance floor instantly,

“What’s going on?” Race yelled into Albert’s ear, he threw his head back and laughed,

“Have you ever seen an Irish dance?” He yelled back and Race shook his head, “You’re about to find out then, stay here.” He said and joined his friends on the dance. Pushing his hair off his forehead, he started clapping and stamping his feet, shoving into a line that was forming. There were two lines on each side of the bar, all stomping and clapping in time with the music, men opposite women. The first couple at the top of the lines skipped over to each other, intertwining arms and skipping around each other, then the man led the woman down the middle of the line, spinning her as she went. This continued with every couple until they’d all had a turn. Race had cheered as Albert danced, laughing at how concentrated his was on getting the turns right for the woman he was dancing with.

They went through a few more group dances before they began to separate off into pairs, Albert skipped up to Race and held out his hand, bowing his head forward,

“May I have this dance, sir,” He said, looking up at Race through his eyelashes. Race nodded, putting their beers down on a table behind him, squeaking as Albert yanked him into his body, putting a hand around his waist to hold him close. He spun them around a few times before heading the edge of the floor to lead Race as all the couples galloped around in a circle, switching leg every time. Race laughed as Albert almost collided with a couple as they all danced in and then out and Albert shushed him, focusing on the steps, smiling.

By the end, Race was wiped out and collapsed onto a chair, chest heaving. Albert was slick with sweat and went to the bar to get them both waters, grinning at Sniper as he did so. He set a glass down on the table next to Race, who promptly gulped it all down,

“Don’t drown yourself, babe,” Albert said, ruffling his hair, remaining standing. Race shot him a dirty glance,

“You’ve tried to kill me twice today, Albert, I am not impressed,” He said, and Albert giggled, “It’s not funny.”

“You’re so dramatic,” He said, “Let’s go.” Race stood up and Albert put an arm around Race’s shoulder, waving goodbye to their friends as he did so. They walked back to Albert’s apartment, trading insults and jokes, referencing things Elmer had done or discussing who had the better shower in their apartment. Race argued it was his, Albert thought the opposite. It was eight o’clock when they got back,

“I’m starving,” Race said, flinging his bag to the floor and unlacing his shoes.

“Lucky for you we got food then,” Albert replied, taking Race’s hand and ambling to the kitchen. Once they were inside Race pressed a kiss to Albert’s lips, “What was that for?”

“Didn’t get to kiss you in here last time,” He said, shrugging, a half smile playing at the corners of his lips. Albert pulled him in for a longer, more intense kiss, sliding a hand up Race’s back and one onto his cheeks. Race was left breathless as he pulled away,

“That’s what I should have done last time,” Albert said and winked, pulling left over curry out of the fridge, “I would offer you something else, but this is the only quick thing I got.” Race hummed and peered in the fridge, then searched the cupboards for something. He made a noise as he found what he was looking for and pulled out a bag of pasta,

“Wanna make pasta sauce?” He said, eye twinkling,

“Fuck yeah,” Albert said, “You tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” Race nodded, hip checking him as he moved around him to pull tomatoes and onions out of the fridge,

“Cut those up into chunks,” He said and got a pan out of a draw. He filled it with water and then dumped a large amount of salt in it and put it on the stove, turning the temperature up to full to make it boil. Then he got out another pan and poured in plenty of olive oil and diced some garlic, throwing that and the onions into the pan when it was hot. He spent the next half an hour giving Albert instructions and gliding around the kitchen, sniffing things and adding them to the sauce,

“Why don’t you have anything labelled,” He grumbled at one point,

“Spot and I do not come from a place that uses spices in its cooking very often,” Albert replied, and Race hit him with a tea towel. A timer went off and he drained the pasta then tipped in the sauce and mixed it round, putting it into two bowls and carrying them to the table where Albert had been banished to,

“Buon appetito,” He said, placing the bowls on the table. Albert grinned at him and dug in, practically moaning as he took the first bite,

“Who taught you to cook like this?” He said, shovelling it into his mouth. Race smiled wistfully,

“My mamma loved to cook, and she taught me and all my siblings,” He took a bite of his pasta and hummed, “Not bad.” Albert rolled his eyes and continued to eat, finishing miles ahead of Race. He sat there with his head rested on his fists, elbows on the table, watching Race eat. They sat in silence until Race finished and then tidied away, leaving the plates and pots out to clean up tomorrow,

“This masquerade ball, do I need to get anything for it?” Albert asked as they cuddled on the couch listening to late night radio with the windows open,

“I can pick you up a mask and a suit and drop it over tomorrow, if you want?”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” He replied, and snuggled closer, eyes drooping shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy your final bite of happiness suckers


	12. 12. rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first bit of angst?

Albert strolled out of the harbour exchanging jokes with a few of his co-workers, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. At the gate they went in different directions, Albert to the left and the others to the right. He walked down the street to his apartment with a smile on his face, looking up to the sun to soak in the last few rays as it rapidly disappeared under the buildings, throwing the city into twilight. It was Thursday night and he was looking forward to seeing what suit Race had left at home for him, trusting that whatever he’d picked out would be amazing. He approached the tower block, waving to Tommy outside,

“No JoJo today?” He said and Tommy shook his head,

“He’s picking up extra shifts at the diner.” Albert plucked the cigarette out of his hand and took a long drag, exhaling the smoke into the crisp evening air,

“He seriously not earning enough?”

“Nah, he’s just trying to flirt with his boss,” Tommy rolled his eyes, “Fucking idiot.” Albert hummed in agreement, handing him back the cigarette,

“See you around, Tommy,” He said and headed into the building up the stairs. He didn’t see the glint of metal in the alleyway next to the house and the man on the other side of the street watching him intently. He climbed the stairs to his apartment and saw new scratches on the lock, he turned around to look if anyone was in the stairwell, but he couldn’t see anyone. Turning his key in the lock slowly, he entered carefully, trying not to make any noise,

“Spot,” He called out, edging down their hall. A man laughed from the couch and twisted his body to look at Albert, his hair was smoothed over his head and he wore a smart black suit,

“No, Albert, not Spot,” He said. Albert came further into the room warily,

“Who are you?” He said. The man motioned around the room and four men came out of different hiding places, holding one hand on their belts and another on a holster on the side of their thighs, surrounding Albert. He gulped, “Are you a mafia?”

“No, son, we’re the Irish mob and I’m Joseph Pulitzer,” The man sighed, “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He cocked his head to the side. One of the men shifted, clutching the handle of his gun, Albert clocked the movement out of the side of his eye. He really didn’t want to get shot, and he was pretty sure this was a kidnapping,

“Are you kidnapping me?” He said, “Because that would be really inconvenient for me.” Pulitzer smirked,

“Not for too long I hope, only a night or two, if we get what we want.” Albert cursed inwardly, he was going to miss the ball if he didn’t get out of this,

“I have somewhere to be on Friday night, so you better be quick,” He said and moved his hands forward so someone got tie them. At least, that’s what he assumed was going to happen. Pulitzer chuckled,

“Oh no, we’ve got to be a bit more dramatic than that, boys,” He flicked his wrist at the men and one of them came behind Albert, pulled back, then cracked a punch right into the back of his head. Blood dripped out of his scalp as he fell to the floor, immediately unconscious. One of the men picked him up bridal styled and kicked his way out of the apartment and down the stairs. He kept a hand pressed to the back of Albert’s head to stop the blood from splashing to the floor and the other men and Pulitzer followed behind him,

“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” He said, mostly to himself, “But the Mafiosi have given me no choice.” He shut the door gently behind him, taking Albert’s key and locking it.

They smuggled Albert down the alleyway into the back of a car and threw a blanket over his unmoving form, then drove out onto the street, careening past the traffic and breaking insurmountable numbers of laws. They came to an abandoned building and stopped, the men carrying Albert out and through the doors. Damp seeped through the walls and disintegrating cardboard was strewn around the mouldy floor, making the air smell of rot. The staircase creaked and bended as they climbed it, flexing at the weight because of the semi-hollow steps due to wood eating creatures. They reached the second floor and a door was falling off its hinges, tilting sideways. There was no glass in the windows meaning that the room was freezing, it being only May, so the evening air wasn’t yet warm. One chair was placed in the centre, ropes on the floor around it. They dumped Albert’s motionless body on the chair and bound his legs and arms to it, not allowing him to move. Pulitzer inspected the knots and nodded, leaving with two of the men and leaving the other two guarding Albert.

He came to at some point in the night, groaning and trying to stretch out his legs, which he failed at doing because they were tied down. There was a throbbing at the back of his head, and when he lifted his hand to touch the area, he almost fell to the side. He realised he was tied to a chair and moaned, dropping his head back. The pain was spreading all over his body. His head throbbed and his shoulders ached from being tied in an uncomfortable position, and rope bristles cut into his wrists and ankles.

“Where the fuck am I?” He said into the darkness, wincing at how broken he sounded. Two figures moved near a door lit up by the streetlights below, they came forward out of the gloom and Albert noted they were larger than he was with scars cutting up their faces and hands like bear paws. They scowled at him, frown lines set into their faces,

“Talk again and you’ll regret it,” One of them growled. Albert gulped, looking between them,

“Could you at least tell me how long I’ve been here,” He said quietly. The man on the left raised his hand and smacked it across Albert’s face, a crack resounded around the building as blood began to drip from his nose and down his top, coating it in a waterfall of red. The two of them laughed and the other stepped closer to him slowly, bending down to be in his eyeline. He steadily moved his hands forward to Albert’s neck, sick grin on his face. “No no no,” Albert hissed, scrabbling his feet on the floor in a pitiful attempt to move backwards. The man’s hands reached his neck and he spent achingly long minutes getting the position right, then pressed down hard, restricting the air to Albert’s lungs. He held the pressure until it looked like Albert was about to pass out and then released him, waiting seconds before continuing again. This carried on for what felt like hours, the man’s hands left black bruises all the way around his neck, dark skin creeping up to his chin. Albert drifted in and out of a conscious state, unable to stay awake but also not wanting to succumb to sleep in case he had a head injury from being knocked out. The sun started to peer into the room and the men left, two new guards replacing them, and for the thousandth time, he wondered if someone realised he was missing, and for the millionth time, he thought of Race, and hoped someone was coming to get him.

“Race, we gotta go,” Jack banged on the door of the bathroom with his fist, “We’re gonna be late.” Race sighed; he couldn’t get his curls to fall over his mask the way he wanted them too. He gave himself one last look in the mirror, then exited to the bathroom to deal with a scowling Jack,

“Keep your hair on, I’m ready,” He said, smiling. His suit was ocean green adorned with black sequins along the lapel of the jacket and he had a black mask over his face, resting on his cheek bones and held in place with an elastic band around his head,

“You look great,” Jack said, “Albert’s going to love it.” Race nodded, taking in Jack’s navy suit embroidered with baby pink flowers up from the bottom of the pants,

“He better,” He replied, and Jack laughed, taking his arm and leading him out of the apartment. They walked down the stairs to meet Davey, already sprawled in the back of the car they had hired alluringly, his long legs crossed under a satin dress the same colour as Jack’s flowers, a white mask was balancing on his face, covered in glitter flower patterns, and his lips were tinged with rouge.

“You both look wonderful,” He said, voice pitched higher than usual. Jack climbed into the car and kissed him softly,

“Not too bad yourself,” His eyes glinted beneath his matte navy mask and Davey rolled his eyes and kissed him again, pushing Jack into a seat opposite him. Race slid in beside Davey, placing a hand on his thigh and complimenting his dress, earning himself a flutter of eyelashes and a giggle. They drove towards Hamilton Lodge to the back of the line of cars that were forming outside, filled with people ready to walk the red carpet and into the building for an unforgettable night. Race felt the usual butterflies he felt doing this, the magic of the masks and the outfits would never wear off. He used to dream of meeting his prince in the dark, chasing him around, not knowing what he looked like and eventually finding each other in rain, kissing furiously. A great love story. He knew now that a great love story didn’t have to be dramatic to be great, a love story was incredible if two people loved each other freely and fully with no concerns, and it felt like he had that.

They reached the front of the queue and Jack got out first to open the door for Davey and help him out of the car. He held out his arm and Davey wrapped a hand around his elbow, stepping onto the red carpet. The crowd screamed for him as he strutted down it and cameras flashed as he posed with Jack at his side, face set into a smooth expression, inciting curiosity. He was in his element, and Jack felt wondrously lucky to be able to stand at his side,

“You’re doing amazing,” He whispered to Davey as he gripped his waist, smiling for one last photo. Davey looked down to him and grinned and the camera went off, immortalising that moment forever,

“You too,” He whispered back and tangled his hand with Jack, the two of them stepping into the building. Race was behind them, he was nowhere near as famous as Davey, but being Medda’s son meant he was quite popular. He smiled lazily at the paparazzi and the fans on the other side of the barrier, keeping up his reputation as Medda Larkin’s elusive youngest son, impossible to pin down. He couldn’t wait to see Albert on the other side. He skipped down the steps to the floor and was greeted by his gaggle of friends, all dressed up in similar opulent attire,

“Race you look stunning!” Romeo screamed, pushing through their friends to hug him. He was in a blood red suit with a matching red mask over his face, he had yellow suspenders on, and yellow outlines of stars painted onto his mask. He gripped Race tightly,

“You look good too, Romeo,” He said, laughing. Elmer and Mush whistled at him as they made their way over. Mush was wearing a sapphire blue suit and Elmer was in hot pink, covered in sequins. Both of their masks were covered in gold glitter, “You two got the same masks, oh my god-,”

“Shut up.” They said at the same time, making Romeo and Race laugh. Mush glared at them, and Elmer glared at Mush, clearly thinking it was his fault,

“Henry and Finch here?” Race asked and Elmer nodded,

“They’re dancing already, I think something happened between the two of them, they’re really touchy,” He said, pretending to whisper the last bit and wiggling his eyebrows,

“Someone always hooks up at these things,” Race said, and Mush nodded,

“I can’t wait to see what white man Romeo is going to get with,” Romeo squawked and slapped his arm, and the others dissolved into laughter, “They aren’t even hot, Romeo.”

“Yeah,” Elmer agreed, “At least Race’s white man is hot.” Race just rolled his eyes, amused,

“Is he here?” He asked and the group shook their heads,

“No, we haven’t seen him, he said he’d be here ten minutes ago.” Mush replied and Race’s face dropped momentarily, “I’m sure he’s just running late though.” He reassured him, exchanging a worried look with Elmer who motioned for him to stop talking,

“Let’s go dance,” Romeo yelled, “And get a fucking drink, Albert will be here soon.” He threw an arm over Race’s shoulder and led him across the dance floor, forcing him to take a shot of vodka and dragging him to the dance floor, trapping Race close with his hands around his waist and grinding on him. Race laughed and went along with it, feeling slightly better, but there was something bugging him, that something wasn’t right with Albert. He was so excited for the ball; it made no sense for him to miss it.

They danced for hours and Albert still didn’t show, Race was growing more anxious by the minute, anxious that Albert was hurt somewhere or trapped, the thought of him ditching Race entered his mind, but it was too awful to think about. He didn’t think he could cope with that three shots of vodka and one cocktail in. He broke away from their group to find Jack, hoping that he would be able to rationalise Albert’s lack of appearance. He weaved through the dancers having spotted Davey’s head sticking above the crowd, he was six foot normally let alone with heels, and tapped him on the shoulder. Davey spun around and smiled when he saw it was Race,

“You good, baby?” He said, noting Race’s tight features,

“Do you know where Jack is?” He asked and Davey nodded,

“By the edge talking to those group of boys over there,” He pointed to a table at the outskirts of the dance floor and Race nodded,

“Thank-you,” He said and turned to go, pushing through the people to the table. He reached Jack and grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth and took a drag, exhaling over the group, “Excuse me, boys,” He said, “I just gotta borrow Jacky here for a minute.” He didn’t wait for their reply and pulled Jack out of his chair and into the backrooms where Davey had taken Albert all those weeks before.

“Hey, Race, slow down.” He said, stopping him by tugging hard on his bicep and shoving him into a chair, then knelt down in front of him as Race pressed his fists into his eyes, trying to stave off tears, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Albert isn’t here,” Race whispered, voice thick with tears, “He didn’t come, and I can’t stop thinking that what if something horrible happened or what if he changed his mind about us.” A sob escaped him, and Jack raised up on his knees further to embrace him, strong arms encapsulating Race’s smaller frame,

“It’s okay, Racer,” He said, humming, rubbing Race’s back gently as he cried into his shoulder. Sobs wracked his body and Jack felt his heart splinter for him, knowing how it felt to wonder if your ‘boyfriend’ had gotten too scared and backed out without a word. This had happened to Jack before, but it had never happened to Race, and it sucked, but there was nothing you could do.

Davey unlocked the door and hurried down the corridor towards them, face melting into one of concern as he saw Jack and Race huddled together, tears dripping into Jack’s shoulder. He came towards them and Jack mouthed ‘Albert’ at him, and he nodded, immediately understanding. He knelt down next Jack, hiking his dress up to get comfortable. He put a hand on Race’s knee,

“Hi, baby,” He said quietly, “I heard about Albert not showing, I’m sorry.” He let Jack sit back for a moment to rest his legs and slid a hand around his waist and one into his hair, letting Race’s cry into his neck. He pulled back, face splotchy red,

“I just thought-,” He hiccoughed, “I just thought he was different and now he’s left me.” He said, wailing and Davey ran a hand through his curls,

“I know, I’m sorry,” He said, wiping tears of Race’s cheeks, “We thought he was different too.” His eyes soft as he tilted his head slightly. In his peripheral vision he saw Jack clenching and unclenching his fists, attempting to get his breathing steady. As Race put his face in Davey’s neck he looked sideways to glare at Jack, knowing getting angry would solve nothing. Jack caught his eye and looked to the floor, ashamed, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes. Race’s sobs petered out into hiccoughs and eventually he stopped crying and he lifted his head out of Davey’s neck. His eyes were puffy and red and tear tracks stained his cheeks,

“I want to make him pay,” He said, and Davey’s hands leapt to grip the sides of his face,

“No,” He said sternly, “That won’t make anything better.” Race stood up and nearly knocked Davey over, Jack holding his shoulder to steady him from the force of Race. He helped him up and checked he was okay, and turned to Race,

“You’re mad, Race, I get it, but we can’t bring him here if he doesn’t want to, and we don’t even know that he ditched, okay? Something could’ve happened to him at work, he does a pretty physical job, yeah?” Race swallowed and nodded,

“Yeah, he works at the docks,” He bit his lip, contemplating something for a moment, “Could we go to his apartment to see if he’s there?” Jack and Davey exchanged an indecipherable look,

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Davey said gently. Race bit his lip, holding back tears,

“I just need to know if he’s hurt or not,” He gave Jack the biggest puppy eyes he could, pushing out his bottom lip into a pout. Jack rubbed a hand on the back of his head,

“Fine,” He said, giving in, “But Race, this could be really painful, for both of you.” Davey nodded in agreement,

“I’ll stay here to watch the others,” He pressed a kiss to Jack’s cheek and tottered back down the corridor to the dance floor. The door swung shut with a crack, and Jack put a hand on Race’s shoulder, making eye contact,

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked seriously and Race gave him a watery smile,

“I am,” He said, and Jack nodded, smoothing the wrinkles out in his suit jacket and walking side by side with Race out of the corridor and across the dance floor. Mush spotted them and made hand signals to ask what happened, Jack pointed to Davey and Mush gave a thumbs up, going to dance with Romeo again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeheehee
> 
> drop a comment and kudos if u enjoyed!! tell me what u liked!!
> 
> g x


	13. 13. seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the rescue

They went out of a fire exit, avoiding the crowds at the front of the building and walked down the street towards the subway. Race had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head bent down to the floor, he sat on the train the same way. Not riding the subway like a surfboard felt wrong, but everything felt off balance and he could not keep his head above water. The sinking feeling that he might never feel happy like how he had been with Albert crept into his stomach, making it twist into knots. Jack sensed his discomfort and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side,

“It’s going to be okay, Race,” He said, resting his head atop of Race’s. The train screeched to a halt and the doors slid open, allowing the two of them to get off, and they walked in silence to Albert’s apartment building. From a few metres away Race could see Tommy outside chatting to JoJo, suspenders hanging down around his thighs and pack of cigarettes poking out of his back pocket,

“Tommy!” Race yelled and he turned around, smiling when he recognised Race. He went in for quick hug and pulled back,

“Hey Race, how you been?” He said, JoJo giving him a nod,

“Alright,” He said, “Have you seen Albert?” Tommy’s eyebrows pinched together,

“No, I thought he was with you,” He replied, confused. Race’s face dropped, and Jack put a hand on the small of his back,

“Well, we don’t know where he is, do you know where he could be?” Jack asked and Tommy tilted his head back, looking to the sky,

“I saw him last night, if that helps, but I haven’t seen him at all today, come to think of it.” Tommy looked back to them apologetically. Race sent Jack a nervous look,

“Could you let us in so we can go up to his apartment?” Tommy nodded his head and pulled out his keys, opening the door for them. Race took Jack up the stairs as he took in the mouldy walls and suspicious green substances on the floor,

“It’s more charming than it looks,” Race assured him, and Jack raised an eyebrow,

“I’m sure that’s how it is to you.” Race shoved him gently and stopped on the fifth floor outside Albert’s apartment. He took a deep breath, then knocked and waited for it to be open. They stood there for a few seconds before they heard a bang from the apartment and the door flew open. Spot stood in front of them, harried expression on his face and shoulders hunched forwards,

“Albert isn’t here, go away,” He said quickly, attempting to slam the door shut. Jack got a foot inside just before he did,

“Look, Spot, we just want to know where he is,” Jack gritted out, pushing Spot backwards and coming into the apartment. Race followed behind him. Spot huffed and began to pace, knotting his hands in his hair,

“I didn’t want to, I promise, I didn’t want to, but I had to, I didn’t have a choice,” He said, breaths quickening. Jack immediately understood what was going on and stopped his pacing, making him sit down and placing his hands over Spot’s, coaxing them to untangle from his hair. Making direct eye contact,

“Slow down,” He said, hoping to stave off the oncoming panic attack, “Tell us what happened.” Race hung back, feeling anger boiling his stomach. Spot had done something, and Albert was gone, that much was clear. He wanted someone to hurt like how he was hurting. He wanted blood,

“The mob have got him,” Spot said ashamedly, looking to the floor, “The Irish one.” He looked up to Race, “They’re using him for ransom against your father, they probably took him to this warehouse,” He grabbed a piece of tissue off the coffee table and scribbled down an address, “I don’t know what kind of state he’s in, but he’s probably alive.”

“Probably.” Race said drily, crossing his arms and leaning against the opposite wall. Jack sent Spot one of his signature it’s-all-going-to-be-okay smiles and stood up, leaving him on the couch. Race tapped his foot on the floor, he just wanted Albert to be okay, and every minute they wasted was an opportunity for the mob to hurt him more. It was not like Race was a stranger to mob, he came from a gang culture, he knew how they worked, which also meant he knew how ruthless they could be. How unforgiving and relentless they were when they wanted something. “We need to get to my father’s place now,” He said, and Jack nodded, following Race out the door.

They got to Brooklyn as fast as they could, arriving at Ludo’s hideout panting and red in the face. Race barged through the door and down the corridor, ignoring Jacks tentativeness, him having not been in a mafia building before. They came to the main room with the mahogany table in and weapons were laid out on top of it, men hurrying around in black gear. Race was extremely tempted to stomp his foot like a child,

“Papa!” He called, “What the fuck is going on?” He said in Italian as Ludo appeared out of the gloom. An expression of relief passed over his face,

“Thank God,” He said, also in Italian, “Giovanni, we found Antonio.” Giovanni ran into the room and his eyes landed on Race,

“Good to see you, kid,” He said, and Race gaped, having not heard him talk in years. His voice was scratchy with disuse, but it was understandable.

The gravity of the situation kicked in, whatever the mob had asked for, Ludo was not going to give, and this was his response.

“What did the mob want?” Race asked Ludo, continuing in Italian. Ludo sent him a grim expression,

“They wanted one of our bootlegging lines down from Canada, I told them no way and they said they’re gonna start taking fingers off Albert.”

“Oh God,” Race gasped then pursed his lips together to try and stop the tears from forming in his eyes. He turned around and pressed his face into Jack’s chest, his hands coming up to cradle Race’s waist and stroke his hair, “They said they’re gonna chop Albert’s fingers off,” Race translated for him, voice muffled in Jack’s shirt. Jack’s breath hitched in his throat; he could not imagine how he would feel having that threat on Davey. Ludo cleared his throat, bringing Race’s attention back to him,

“I know they only use certain people to do that and from what I’ve heard they haven’t got their guy back until 10pm so we still got an hour to get to him,” Ludo said.

“I want to help,” Spot burst through into the room, hands clenched into fists by his side and three guys running behind him, grabbing him to stop him from moving. Jack gawked at him and he smiled at him sarcastically, “This is my fault, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Can you fire a gun straight? God knows this idiot can’t.” He pointed at Race,

“Papa,” Race whined. Spot nodded firmly,

“Yes sir, I can.” Ludo nodded,

“Good.” He said and picked up a handgun and pressed it into his hand, “You,” He turned to Jack, “Can you shoot a gun?” Jack swallowed,

“I haven’t in a long time-,”

“You got a gang background or not?”

“Something like that.” Jack said nervously. Ludo made a fed-up gesture and handed him a gun too. He looked sternly at Race,

“I want a gun.” Race said first, surprising even himself. Jack looked down at him,

“Race is that really a good idea?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” He said, “Give me the fucking gun.” Ludo shrugged and handed one over, as well as all black clothes. When they returned from changing, Spot, Jack and Race fastened holsters to their thighs and put the guns in as Mafiosi bustled around them getting ready for the raid. “Here’s where they’re keeping him.” Race said, handing over the tissue that Spot had put the address on. Ludo took it and read it,

“Son of a bitch,” He cursed, “They’ve taken him to Death Alley.” Race felt tears prick his eyes once more,

“No,” He said, “No they can’t have.” Death Alley was a warehouse near the docks known for public executions where gangs would kill traitors, double agents and anyone who got in their way. People used it to make a statement, you kill someone at Death Alley, and everyone knows not to do what got the person killed again.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ludo decided, “We’re going to get him. Everyone we’re going to Death Alley, let’s leave.”

They ended up with about twenty guys packed into three cars heading out of Brooklyn towards the warehouse. Nerves were mounting in Race as the journey stretched out, the thought of Albert not surviving was slithering in, and Race could not help but wonder that they would be too late.

Spot sat silently for the whole journey, face set into a hard lines and hand loosely gripping his gun. He did not want to deal with the mob anymore, he just wanted this all to be over and hopefully tonight he had a chance to do that.

The buildings became evermore dingy and squalid as they got near to Death Alley and eventually, they pulled up in front of a looming building with too many floors to count and rats scurrying around its edge. Ludo stayed in the car and gave the instructions to go in and protect Race. Three guys surrounded him as the group walked in, guns held up with the safety clicked off. A few of them were guards and waited at the door while the rest tracked up two different staircases, four people peeling off at each floor to go throw all the rooms, ready to shoot if needed.

Race kept going up to the second floor and stopped, noting that the door was not completely closed. He motioned to his escort and they understood, carefully walking forward. Spot followed them too, his gun held up and eye squinting to make the sure the aiming Us were in line. The first man kicked the door open and instantly shot a man as he turned around to face them. Another man in the room materialised from nowhere and fired his gun straight into Spot’s leg. He collapsed to the floor howling in pain as a second Mafiosi shot the man that shot him.

“Albert,” Race cried, charging forward. He was clearly unconscious, blood dripping out of his eyebrow and purple bruises around his neck, and his legs and arms were tied to the chair at unnatural angles that could only be uncomfortable. Race pulled a knife out of his sock and sawed at the ropes to get them off as his escort set up around him facing the door to keep them safe. He hacked at the last knot and it came undone. Albert fell forward into Race’s arms and he realised that he was bleeding from the back of his head, his red hair matted with sticky blood.

Race swivelled around with Albert cradled in his arms to see Jack doing the same to Spot, they locked eyes across the room,

“We need to get Spot and Albert to the hospital,” Race said, voice breaking, to the group around him

“Yes sir,” They replied, and the leader of Race’s escort started yelling to clear the building. Race stood up with Albert in his arms and staggered out. Jack was sharing Spot’s weight with another man,

“He got all his fingers?” Jack asked, nodding to Albert. Race checked and breathed a sigh of relief,

“Yeah, he has.” He said. Spot groaned in Jack’s arms and started to move, Jack quieted him and deposited him in the backseat of a car, putting pressure on his wound. The commotion had brought Albert out of his hazy state as well and he woke up to see Race’s eyes staring down at him,

“Am I in heaven?” He croaked and Race laughed, tears falling down his cheek while he carded a hand through Albert’s hair,

“No, baby, we got you.”

“Oh,” He said, “Thank fuck. I’d hoped that one day I’d see you in all black.” He smiled blearily at Race and promptly fell asleep again, body collapsing back into Race’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey. that was tense. sorry for leaving u guys on a cliffhanger, i hope this was worth the wait. as always do me a massive favour and comment!! love u all, stay safe,  
> g x


	14. 14. recover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a bit of recovery for our souls

They made it to the hospital and rushed Albert and Spot into the ER with minimal protest from Spot about insurance. Jack saw Ludo hand a wad of cash over to the policeman hanging around the door and looked away, not wanting to get involved in that.

In the harsh hospital light, an immeasurable amount of blood on Albert’s body had quickly become apparent and the doctors were anxious to get his injuries treated, lest an infection set in. It left Jack, Ludo, Race and a terrifying group of Mafiosi sitting in the ER. Their guns were still holstered to their thighs and sweat was dripping off their faces making for a frightening sight. Most people had opted to move as far away from them as possible,

“Are they going to be okay?” Race said, looking down into his hands. Ludo rubbed his back,

“They’ll be fine,” He said, “They’re Irish, they’re goddamn impossible to kill.”

“Papa,” Race warned, and he held up his hands in a surrender, turning to give orders to his remaining Mafiosi. Jack slid an arm around his shoulders and shook him gently,

“They’re young and fit, Race, they’ll pull through,” He said, “Let’s go get some coffee, okay?” He stood up and pulled Race with him, walking him over to the hospital café. The coffee was burnt, but it was better than nothing and gave them something to do while they waited for hours for the doctors to return with Albert and Spot’s condition. The Mafiosi had filtered out eventually, along with Ludo, leaving Jack and Race alone, sweaty and worried in the ER.

A doctor was making a beeline towards them holding a clipboard with an easy smile on his face,

“Are you Sean Conlon’s family?” He asked, Jack and Race looked between each other,

“The only he’s got in the city apart from Albert,” Jack said when Race hesitated,

“Good,” The doctor replied, “You’ll be happy to know he’s out of surgery and making a steady recovery, we should be able to send him home in a few days.” Jack flashed his signature grin at him,

“Thank you,” He said,

“Have you got any news on Albert DaSilva?” Race cut in anxiously. The doctor looked at the clipboard in his hands, scanning down the paper and lifting it up to look on the one beneath,

“I haven’t got any official news, but between you and me, he’s not in critical condition and most of his wounds are superficial. He should be out later.” He winked at them both and walked back into the corridor towards the main hospital. Race fell back into his seat, exhaling deeply, and Jack ruffled his hair,

“Told you, didn’t I?” Jack said as Race blinked back tears,

“Fucking hell,” He whispered, “Jack, I love him.”

“I know you do, sweetheart,” He beamed, “I’m happy for you.” Race threw his arm around Jack’s shoulders and pulled him down into a hug.

“Can you wait here while I grab some clothes from their apartment for them? It’s not far from here.” He said and Jack nodded,

“I’ll wait for them.” Race slapped his shoulder and sprinted out of the hospital towards Albert and Spot’s apartment. He went into Albert’s room and pulled out the comfiest looking clothes he owned and the same for Spot. Why he was overwhelmed by protectiveness for Spot at this moment he did not know, but he had desperately been trying to make up for something, and Race had no doubt he would explain once he was better. He put the clothes in a bag and trotted down the stairs and back down the street to the hospital, feeling much more hopeful than earlier. May was fading into June and the hot summer was upon them, long days and balmy nights laid in bed with the windows wide open were ahead, and Race could not wait.

He skipped into the ER to see Albert sprawled on the chairs next to Jack, hands and ankles wrapped in bandages and dark bruises on his neck faded slightly. He had a bandaged wrapped around his head and small cuts up on his jaw. When he caught sight of Race a radiant smile spread across his face, and Race ran forward and tumbled into his arms, pressing his face into his shoulder,

“I was so scared,” He said, squeezing Albert tightly,

“Yeah? Think about how I felt,” Race pulled back with an apology on his lips and saw Albert grinning at him, lips pursed to stop a laugh escaping,

“Oh my god, you dick,” He groaned, “I thought you were serious.”

“C’mon babe, it’s me we’re talking about.” He smiled again and Race caught sight of a gash on his temple that had been sewn together. His hand moved up to caress it,

“Really though, how are you?” Albert hummed,

“I’m on a lot of pain meds right now, and I’m feeling a bit battered, but overall, I’m okay.” Race nodded, cupping his face,

“I want to kiss you so bad right now,” He whispered, Albert giggled,

“Not in public,” He said, and Race laughed, falling onto Albert.

“Is this something I should understand?” Jack said, eyeing them suspiciously. Albert wiped tears out of his eyes,

“No,” He said, smiling at Race, “No you shouldn’t.”

Race stayed at Albert’s for the few days while Spot was in hospital. Albert went to visit him every day as his work had given him time off to recover, and Race went to his classes and his internship, trying to not to smother Albert by being overprotective. He had given Albert a full body examination, and he was fine, like the doctor had said, only superficial wounds.

Spot arrived back on Tuesday with a bag of drugs and an eyeroll, secretly smiling as Albert hugged him as he came into the apartment. Race hung back, wringing his hands, but Spot just pulled him in and whispered ‘thank you’ into his neck, patting him on the shoulder when he released him. Albert was overjoyed to see them getting along,

“I’m so happy right now,” He announced, halfway through a movie on Thursday night. Spot laughed,

“We know you are,” He said, sharing a knowing glance with Race, who was tangled in Albert’s arms. Race pressed a kiss to his jaw,

“Me too,” He said, snuggling further into Albert’s body. The movie rolled into the credits and Albert noticed Spot tense up,

“Spot, what’s wrong?” He asked instantly, worried that something was hurting. Spot breathed slowly and deeply,

“I have something to tell you,” He said, looking at Albert in the eyes. Albert nodded and he took that as a cue to continue, “It was me that got you kidnapped, I told the mob you were with Race and that they’d given you a mafia ring. I’m so, so sorry Albert, I was in debt to them and terrified and I regretted it immediately,” He paused to breathe, “I’m sorry to you Race, as well, I made a huge mistake, and I hope you can forgive me.” A tear slipped down his cheek and he fisted it away, sniffing. Albert surged forward to capture him into a fierce hug,

“Of course, I forgive you, you fucking idiot, you came to save me.” He said as Spot buried his head in his shoulder, trying to stop tears from falling, “You’re my best friend, I love you, and we’re going to help you get away from those awful people, okay?” Spot nodded into his neck and raised his head,

“You’re a real friend, Albert,” He said, “And a good man.”

“You too, Spot, not everyone would’ve had the guts to right that wrong.” Albert brushed tears off his cheeks and realised hands were snaking around his waist, they tightened, and then he was thrown to the floor, yelping.

“My turn!” Race yelled, and shoved Spot back to hug him from on top. Spot laughed, hugging him back, “It’s okay, Spottie,” He said, “You knew when you had made a bad choice and when to act, so I forgive you.” Spot patted his shoulder blade,

“Thanks, but I can’t breathe, and you’re lying on my bullet hole,” He said,

“Oh, woe is me, I got shot, think about how I felt! They _strangled_ me,” Albert replied as Spot began to choke, and grabbed the side of Race’s sweater and pulled him off Spot onto the floor. Race screamed and pivoted to sit on his hips, starting to tickle him. Albert collapsed back, letting Race do what he wanted, powerless to stop him,

“I’m just going to go to bed,” Spot said, smiling, getting off the couch. Neither Albert nor Race replied, both too wrapped up in each other to register that he’d spoken.

Finally, Race got tired and rolled off Albert, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, laughing as they lay on the rug in the lounge. Albert reached over and took his hand, tangling it with his own,

“Let’s move in together,” He said, interrupting the silence. Race rolled onto his side to look at him,

“You sure?” He asked and Albert looked at him, twinkles in his eyes,

“You can’t live with Medda forever, can you? And where else are you going to go?” Race punched him, “Look, we can get a little one bed apartment. You finish school soon and I’ve got enough money saved up to go to nursing school, and no one’s telling Jack and Davey off for living together.” Race paused for a moment to think,

“Okay,” He said, “Okay let’s fucking move in together.” He leant over and kissed Albert deeply, letting his tongue skate over Albert’s lips, coaxing them open. Albert pushed him off, raising onto his elbows,

“Bedroom now,” He said, and Race laughed,

“Desperate?”

“I haven’t had sex in a week, and since then I’ve been kidnapped, so shut up.” He said, pressing a kiss to Race’s lips and pulling him up and into his bedroom.

Albert awoke to Race drawing circles on his chest and looking up into his eyes, a soft smile on his lips like he was unaware of its presence,

“Morning,” He said, and Race replied with a similar greeting, his eyes not leaving Albert’s face once, “What?” He asked, “Have I got something on my face?”

“No, I’ve just missed looking at you,” He said quietly, and Albert huffed,

“Well, am I as gorgeous as always?” Race laughed gently, and leant up to kiss him,

“Minus the bruise, cuts and bandage remnants I’d say you look as gorgeous as always.” Albert shoved his face away with a hand and a giggle,

“I think the battered look suits me,” He said, and Race raised an eyebrow at him. Albert could see his expression shift into something more serious,

“If anyone touches you like this again, I might implode.” He wound his fingers into Albert’s hair and stroked his face, his nose pinched,

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Tony, I promise,” Albert said decidedly, looking down into his eyes, and kissed Race lightly, “I am, however, disappointed that I didn’t get to go to the masquerade ball.” Race tugged Albert’s hair at the nickname and bit his lip,

“I actually have a solution to that, if you want to know?” He said and Albert nodded vigorously, “Well, we could do one at one of our friends’ houses like how it would have been done on Friday, we can all wear our outfits and everything. I was thinking at Mush’s because his place is massive.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Albert yelled and was quickly hushed with a finger over his mouth, “We have to do that.” He said, just as excited, but at a lower volume. Race laughed, his ocean eyes sparkling,

“Okay,” He said, “I’ll arrange it for Friday, your suit’s still here for you to wear.” Albert squeezed his bicep in acknowledgement as Race moved to get out of the bed,

“Where are you going?” Albert whined, pouting. He picked a shirt out of Albert’s drawer and threw it on, then did up the zipper on his jeans and leaned over to ruffle Albert’s hair,

“I’ve got class.” He said, “I’ll see you on Friday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Albert crossed his arms and threw himself further down the bed, startling a laugh out of Race, “I can’t believe I was kidnapped and you’re leaving me.”

“Babe, I like this class,” Race said, pulling a sweater over his head and kissing Albert, “And I’ll see you in a few days.” He whispered on his lips,

“I guess I’ll have to let you leave,” Albert huffed into Race’s mouth. He patted Albert’s cheek and slipped out of the room, leaving Albert alone in his bedroom listening to the sound of Race bidding Spot goodbye and shutting the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can see, i cant hold out on the angst for long. i need fluff. i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, leave a comment i love to hear from all of you!! stay home and stay safe  
> g x


	15. 15. end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one last ball.

Race got back to Medda’s apartment after his last class of the day exhausted and ready to stuff himself with casserole and go to sleep, but the universe had other plans. He unlocked the door to see all his friends sitting around the dining room table, Mush was biting his nails and their expressions were tight and grim. He knocked his forehead against the wall, groaning. He hung up his coat and dropped his satchel to the floor and walked towards them,

“Mama, there are queers in our dining room,” He yelled, and the group started to protest,

“Mama, there’s a Mafiosi in our apartment,” He heard Jack reply from the kitchen and Race laughed, sitting down on top of Davey’s lap at the table. Jack appeared from the kitchen a minute later, holding an opened wine bottle, “We wanted to celebrate your return.” He said and put the wine down on the table to retrieve glasses for everyone from the kitchen.

“So, how is good old Albie boy?” Romeo asked and the rest of the group looked at him expectantly,

“Just about back to normal,” Race said, “His personality has not suffered in the slightest.”

“Is he anxious about it happening again?” Mush piped up and Race shook his head,

“He’s got this ultimate trust that everything will eventually be okay, and that the mob won’t try it again,” He shrugged, “I doubt they will, honest, especially as I’m sure my dad will retaliate with something I don’t want to know about.” Jack came in with the wine glasses and poured some for everyone. Davey raised his to his lips and sipped, then spoke,

“Just keep an eye on him, who knows what things could crop up in the next few weeks.”

“Of course.” Race said, taking a sip of his wine too. Finch was studying his face intently,

“You love him,” He stated, it was not a question, it was as if Finch knew. He was though, absolutely correct. Love was something that in their scene did not come into play often, it was a big deal, and it was a promise and a responsibility, a guarantee that they were willing to work together to make their relationship last. Love tied two of them together like marriage tied straight couples together, it was a greater risk than having sex, sex you could hide, devotion, however, you could not.

“I do,” Race said, and he was proud of it, “I love him more than anything.” Davey rubbed his thigh,

“We’re happy for you,” He said, “You deserve it.”

“We all deserve it,” Jack grumbled, “But ain’t no one in the government listening to that.” Davey reached over a hand to squeeze his shoulder,

“One day,” He comforted, “One day it’ll change.” They sat in silence, sipping their wine glasses, thinking about their reality. It was easy to get caught up in the freedom of the city, and it was easy to forget that technically they were not meant to exist.

“I was thinking we could do a second masquerade ball at your place on Friday, Mush, for Albert because he missed out on the actual one,” Race interrupted. Mush nodded,

“Sure, I’m always happy to host a party,” He said, and Romeo fist pumped,

“Another chance to get wasted,” He hollered, and they all laughed, Mush slapping his arm.

Gradually the filtered out and went home, including Jack and Davey for once, and Race was left alone with in the apartment with Medda and his casserole. She sat with him at the table,

“I’m going to move in with Albert soon,” He said sheepishly, “He asked me to.” Medda raised an eyebrow,

“You really want to do that, baby? It’s awfully soon.” Race nodded,

“I love him, I’ve never felt like how I do with him… and I hate being away from him.” He sighed, putting down his fork, “I don’t want to leave him alone after what happened, and he has Spot so he’s fine, but I need him with me.” Medda took his hands in her own,

“I get that, but make sure you want this for other reasons than to keep an eye on him.”

“I do, I want to wake up with him every morning and dance in our kitchen, I just-,” He paused, “I want what I dreamed of when I was younger, and I want it with him.” He bit his lip and Medda pressed a kiss to the top of his head,

“You’re gonna get that, and I’m so happy for you.” She said and picked up his finished plate and took it to the kitchen, “And I hope you’re all crashing at Mush’s on Friday, Teddy’s coming around.” Race laughed,

“Yes, Medda, we are.” He said and trailed away into his bedroom.

At Albert and Spot’s apartment there was a high-level persuasion going on. Albert had Spot on the couch and was forcing him to come to the masquerade ball on Friday, mostly unsuccessfully. Spot was curled tightly in on himself at the other end of the couch to Albert, his hair had gotten long, and was falling into his dark eyes,

“Spot, c’mon, it’s going to be so much fun, I promise.” Albert said. Spot crossed his arms and shook his head,

“I am not going to a ridiculous queer dress up party,” He said, and Albert huffed,

“It’s a ball not a party and it’s not ridiculous, and all the guys want to meet you.” Spot looked at him, unimpressed. He was not sure he could believe that, although from what Albert had told him they were a crazy bunch so maybe they did actually want the person that got their best friend’s boyfriend kidnapped,

“I don’t believe that,” He said, “Race almost punched me the first time we met.”

“Yeah, and now he’s your friend, please Spot.” Albert gave him the biggest puppy eyes he could, clenching his hands together as if he were begging. Spot rolled his eyes, but a slight smile was caught on his lips. Albert knew he would give in,

“I’ll think about,” He said, and Albert cheered, “But I’m not promising anything.”

“I know what suit and mask I’m getting you; you’re going to look so hot.”

“What is hot?” Spot asked and then realisation dawned on his face, “Oh my god they’ve got you using queer slang.” He groaned and wiped a hand down his face,

“Don’t fight it, Spottie, we’re going to have so much fun.” Albert grinned, pulling Spot into a crushing hug as he grumbled nonsensically.

They ended up getting Spot a fiery red suit and ebony mask from a boutique near their apartment, and for the first time in a long time, Spot could look in a mirror and like what he saw. It was brilliantly disorientating, the feeling of liking how he looked and starting to like his personality as well. He put his hands in his pockets and cocked his head, smiling at himself,

“Albert,” He shouted from his bedroom, and he came to the doorway of Spot’s room, “Have I ever told you how Jack Kelly knows me?” Albert frowned, putting his hands on his hips,

“No, I don’t think you have,”

“Sit down, I’ll tell you.” Albert perched on the bed and Spot turned around to face him, still standing up, “I ran away from home when I was eight, my family called me the devil, said I was cursed since when I was born, I’d had enough. I started selling newspapers, joined the newsies and lived at the lodging house. It was not that bad for what it was, and I got older and took over as their leader basically. I did a lot of shit that got me in trouble with the law, eventually, it caught up with me and I got thrown in this place called the Refuge, it was the stuff of nightmares, rats, vermin, kids everywhere bruised and bleeding,” Albert made a soft noise in the back of his throat and Spot sent him a weak smile, “Jack was one of the kids in there that I helped, he escaped, but I wasn’t that lucky. I made a deal with the mob to get me out and it worked, but I was in debt.” He sat down next to Albert who put an arm around his shoulders, “Not a day goes by that I don’t see the little faces of those kids,” He choked back a sob, “The Refuge is shut now, thank God. Those kids were running from horrible things, and they ran into the gates of a death sentence.”

“I’m sorry, Spot,” Albert said softly, resting his head on top of Spot’s. He was quiet for a few minutes,

“I think-,” He paused, “I think I want to do work helping those kids, a social worker or something. The system failed me, but it doesn’t have to fail everyone.”

“You know, I know a charity that works child abuse cases and runs a house in Brooklyn,” Albert said, and Spot lifted his head up, mouth agape,

“Really?” Albert nodded, biting back a smile,

“They helped me,” He said, “They’re always looking for people to help.” Spot sat there in shock, he could get what he wanted, and that was once a crazy notion, but now it was in front of him on a platter. Albert laughed at his expression and patted his shoulder, “I’ll get the address for you.”

“Thank you,” Spot said reverently,

“Always.” Albert replied gently and slipped across the room and out the door, leaving Spot in peaceful turmoil.

Race arrived in his teal suit with his mask in hand at six o’clock on Friday to find Albert applying blue glitter from his palette onto his eyelids in the bathroom. He stood in the doorway observing for a moment, Albert having not yet noticed he was there. His boyfriend was beautiful, and his confidence and ability to just go for something was unendingly attractive to Race.

“You look gorgeous,” He finally said, and Albert looked at him in the mirror, grinning,

“Why, thank-you,” He swiped a finger over his eye one last time then bent forward and pulled Race in by his tie to kiss him hello. Race sighed softly and put his hands on Albert’s cheeks, getting lost in the gentle feeling of lips pressing to his. He felt Albert shift forward and run an arm around his waist, pulling him minutely closer. This was the kind of kiss that Race craved, the soft domestic one that was just because they could. It made him feel giddy.

“Guys, we do have a party to get to,” Spot said guiltily from the hallway. Race slid out of Albert’s grip to survey his outfit, the red suit made it look like his body had been dipped in wine and the mask was brooding in a way that only Spot could achieve. He looked calm and free, but still bitter and sharp at the edges.

“Looking tight, Spot,” Race said, and Albert squeezed his hip. Spot rubbed the back of his neck and Race was stunned at how much it was alike Albert,

“I’m still not sure about this,” He said, and Albert smiled,

“Stop worrying, it’s going to be great,” He patted Spot’s bicep and then walked towards the door, “Are we going or what?” He said with a grin, mischievous glint caught in his eyes. The sun from the windows in the living room sliced his body into dark and light, making the ocean green sequins on his suit shimmer. Race sucked in a breath, overcome with emotion, and nodded, taking Albert’s hand as he did.

They descended the stairs in silence, holding each other tightly, Spot trailing behind them. They untangled as they opened the door and stepped through from the bliss of the building into the hustling New York Friday evening. As it was June, many people were out late or going to central park to lie in the sun, or on their way to speakeasies and dance halls. Girls with short hair grasped cigarettes between their fingers and laughed as men put their hands on the small of their back and walked them along the roads. Spot, Race and Albert blended in with the dressed-up neighbourhood and made their way to Mush’s house following Race’s lead.

The thrill from doing something he was not meant to, that really this was illegal, still burned in him from the first time he had done this. The fire was made of desire and temptation and jealousy and every sin Race could think of, and it devoured his insides in the most delightful way. He wondered if it was the same for Albert and Spot, they had come from different backgrounds, maybe the thrill of illegality was not the same for them. Spot had not been born into crime like Race, but he had a crime filled childhood, it could be similar for him. Race knew Albert was here alone in the city, or at least he did not speak to any relatives, so it could be different for him. Race wanted to know how he felt, desperately,

“What do these balls feel like for you?” Race asked, turning his head to look up at Albert. Albert tilted his to the side,

“It feels freeing,” He said, “I don’t know, it’s fun to get lost in this world, but I’m not sure I could be a part of it like Jack and Davey are,” He hummed contemplatively, “I haven’t thought about it much.” Race nodded and leant into him slightly.

They walked for a few more blocks and turned onto a street that instead of having apartment buildings, had white fronted houses with pretentious front gardens and cars parked outside. The sidewalks were still, only a few dogwalkers trotted down them with their pedigree pets. Spot whistled appreciatively.

Race pushed open a gate of one of the houses and bounded through the garden. Spot and Albert exchanged a look, then followed. Race knocked once and the door swung open, like in those period dramas Albert liked, Spot noted. Mush stood in the doorway in his suit and mask, shadowed by the house. He was barely taller than Spot, but the dark lighting made him look imposing. Spot was instantly wary. It all, though, came crumbling down when his smiled and his eyes twinkled under the mask.

“Come in, we started without you, sorry,” He grinned and stepped aside, accepting a hug from Albert and Race as they entered. He glanced Spot up and down, then bit his lip,

“You must be Spot?” He held out his hand. Spot grabbed it and shook firmly,

“Yeah, that’s me,” He said, “And you’re Mush? You own this place?” Mush laughed, slapping Spot’s shoulder blade as he came past,

“What, surprised a queer could make any money?” It was a clear joke, but Spot still felt like he had touched a nerve. Or maybe it was a nerve inside of him, either way, he felt the need to apologise. Mush just shook his head, laughing, and led him into the kitchen where the others were downing shots.

The kitchen had a marble island with high ceilings and parquet wood floor, the walls stretched up to surround a chandelier that hung down and fractured the light, sending glittering shards across everyone’s faces. Around the island was a group of men in bright suits with masks clamped around their faces, laughing and whistling and touching. One was in a sky-blue satin gown and silver heels with a white mask that had a swan painted around the eyes. They each had a hand around someone, and hugged Race and Albert as they arrived, each one clutching to Albert in a way that alerted Spot to the fact that these people cared about him. Truly and deeply. Albert having another family than him left a sour taste in his mouth. He hoped they would like him.

“Hey Spot, come in here and get a drink,” Race called, Albert giggling into his neck at something Davey had said. Spot swallowed and rushed over to them and a shot was shoved into his hand. He threw it down his throat as the group cheered around him.

“I like this one,” Elmer announced, haphazardly leaning on Romeo. The group laughed and he shrugged his shoulders, “Didn’t I say I would put up with white boys for y’all.”

“You have never said that once,” Davey deadpanned,

“Either way, it’s true, oh, and by the way, that last guy you dumped, Romeo, I want his address, he was hot.” Elmer said and Jack facepalmed as Romeo slapped Elmer’s shoulder and complained. Spot let an amused grin creep onto his face as he tapped his glass of whiskey against his lip, observing the group. They let easy banter flow between them and did not take anything seriously. He liked it.

At some point much later in the night, someone started playing music on the stereo and everyone got up to dance. Race pulled Albert flush to his body and put his hands over his shoulders, Albert’s hands coming to rest on his waist. They swayed softly to the song and Race rested his head on Albert’s chest, eyes drooping. When Albert was close to him like this, the world turned to honey around him, sweet and golden and slow, making him feel ethereal. He was ready to make the commitment of love to Albert, he found himself wanting to take that risk, wanting to trust Albert with everything he had. Albert ran a hand through his hair and under his jaw, lifting his face to press a candied kiss to his lips,

“You’re incredible,” He whispered, quiet enough that only they could hear. Race’s heart skipped a beat and he sent a dazed smile back,

“You aren’t too bad yourself,” He said, and Albert laughed, tossing his head back, bringing their foreheads to press together and slipping his hands to Race’s hips,

“Thank-you, darling,” He said, “I try my best.” He pressed another kiss to Race’s lips, and then another, and another, and another until Race’s eyes were fluttering shut and he was locking Albert’s lips to his with hands on the back of his head. Albert backed them into the recesses of the lounge where the soft glow from the lights did not reach and smoothed a hand down Race’s torso, catching his lips with his teeth and tugging lightly. Race stifled a moan and kissed back with fervour, allowing Albert to take what he wanted and move him how he wanted. He felt his blood turn to molasses and his body go pliant as Albert pillaged his lips and skated hands over every inch of skin he could reach. Race managed to make himself pull back to skirt the room and lead Albert up four flights of staircases onto the roof. Albert raised an eyebrow at him,

“We just walked past four bedrooms,” He said, and Race regarded him with an unimpressed look,

“Tell me you’ve never wanted to fuck on a rooftop as the sun sets looking at the New York skyline,” Race put his hands on his hips. Albert faltered,

“Oh my fucking god,” He said and pulled Race in to clash their lips together. They dropped to the floor at the same time and Albert spread his jacket down for Race to lie on then stripped him of his clothing piece, by tantalising piece, running his hands and mouth everywhere as he did so. Race was unable to do anything but fist his hair and watch as he touched his lips to his hip bones, featherlight, and ran his hands up and down his thighs. Once Race was ready, he pushed in slowly and the sun bathed his body in amber, highlighting his ruby hair and long eyelashes and toned arms that were resting by Race’s head. Race gasped as he began to move and his thoughts of anything valuable were banished, his entire focus on the feeling of Albert above him.

He moved with intent and purpose with a soft hand carding his hair and the two facets of his personality that Race saw, the biting insults and sarcastic jokes and the soft angelic smiles, collided together. Albert gently mouthed at his neck, marvelling at the feeling of the open sky above him, of limitless possibilities, and Race below him, grounding him and making him present. He did not think he could get more present. Race cried out and his body went languid underneath him, and he followed with his own shout, his arms giving out and his body collapsing onto Race’s. They lay there in blissful silence for a few minutes, the sun was quickly disappearing from view and the light around them was getting darker. Eventually, Race groaned and tapped his shoulder and he pulled out and rolled over beside him, Race put a hand around his waist and pulled him closer, eyes still closed.

“You okay?” Albert said lowly and he nodded, blinking his eyes open. His features were relaxed, and a sluggish smile wound its way onto his lips,

“You never cease to make me feel amazing,” He said and pressed a kiss to Albert’s mouth with a hand on the back of his neck. Albert meant to reply with a compliment but all he could say was,

“I love you,” Him and Race both froze as he said it, then Race began to beam. Albert’s features went radiant,

“I love you too,” Race whispered, “I’m so fucking in love with you.” Albert dropped a kiss to his shoulder,

“I’m so fucking in love with you too,” He paused, “Are we doing this? Saying we love each other and moving in together?” Race rolled his eyes. Signature move.

“Hell yeah we are, New York’s biggest queers are getting an apartment,” Albert laughed,

“I think Jack and Davey are New York’s biggest queers,” He said and Race grinned,

“I think you’re right, actually, and I’m getting cold.” He sat up and Albert handed him a handkerchief to wipe away sweat and… bodily fluids. They both redressed and sat looking at the sunset, huddled into each other. A few moments later they heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Race groaned and pressed his forehead into Albert’s shoulder. The whole group tumbled out of the door that Race and Albert had come through and they turned to face them. Mush held up a hand,

“Let’s all acknowledge that we know what you were doing, and then move on,” He said, and the group muttered agreements and came to surround them, sitting down to watch the last of the sun dip below the buildings. They cuddled closer to each other, masks discarded downstairs, and listened to the city sounds around them.

“I love you guys,” Jack said, and Race heard the layers of emotion in it. Davey put an arm round his shoulder and laid Jack’s head in his lap,

“We love you too,” He replied and bent down to kiss Jack’s temple. Albert was bursting with happiness,

“And I love Racer,” He said in a sing-song voice. The group’s eyes snapped to them and Race felt his cheeks getting warm. He snuggled closer to Albert,

“We’re in love,” He uttered, and Romeo and Elmer cheered as the group burst into hollers around them. Albert looked down to Race and grinned, elated, pressing a kiss to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus fucking christ. i remember crying while writing this chapter. this is my longest fic to date and i poured my heart and soul into this. i forced myself to write 5k a day for as long as i could, and kept going even when it felt impossible. i started writing this in late march and finished in mid/late april and it kept me going through the first few weeks of quarantine. all of ur comments have kept me going since then. once again, my twt is @starrykourts and my tumblr is toofarovertherainbow, please drop in and say hi. i guess this is goodbye for now, love u all, stay safe,
> 
> g xx

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading, i am overjoyed you've taken the time to read it, now COMMENT. it is quarantine u have nothing better to do so give a girl a little bit of free serotonin ;))  
> what kind of update schedule do you want? every other day, twice a week etc. tell me!!


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